


Pink Tequila

by mitjo



Category: Long Exposure (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1930s, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Dates, Betrayal, Boys Kissing, Car Sex, Character Death, Crying and Dying, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Falling In Love, Gang Violence, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Murder, Murder Mystery, Prohibition Era, References to Prostitution, Secret Identity, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unreliable Narrator, lying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-09-20 05:09:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 60,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9477014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitjo/pseuds/mitjo
Summary: Sidney Wagner is dead. And Jonas Wagner's spirit died with her.There is nothing left but the shell of the man he used to be. An ache resides within him, undying and relentless, hungry to take down the man who had murdered his twin sister.All signs point directly to Narcotics, a group of loud mouthed delinquents with a twisted sense of humor. All he has to do is make them trust him. Although, this would be a lot easier if their gang leader would stop looking at him as if he were someone precious. It's making him feel things he really shouldn't be feeling.





	1. Act 1

**Author's Note:**

> The long awaited mafia au! I love gang aus more than anything in the world so I'm hoping y'all like this! It's going to be spectacularly long as always!
> 
> All characters belong to Smokeplanet (Mars!!)
> 
> Please read and support Long Exposure, it's a wonderful webcomic and it will change your life guaranteed!
> 
> Some warnings for this Act: Prostitution Mention, vague references to rape (though it's part of an act and nothing happens), murder talk and vague gore

                                                                                                                                    

His life ends here.

Sidney Wagner, 24 years of age, birthday on the 30th of June.

Her place in the system is ranked high, as she is one of the more well-known sergeants chosen by the commander.

Her family included her adoptive parents, Dean and Sue Wagner, and her twin brother, Jonas Wagner.

She went missing early during the week, gone for approximately two days before her brother got worried and spread the word. Investigators were sent out to find her after a few hours later, accompanied by Dean, the head commander. Eventually they were able to find the body behind a cliff, receding down into a cove on a Friday.

The body experienced multiple stab wounds, cut expertly through the stomach area, piercing several vital organs that resulted in quick system failure and lead to the cause of death; Severe blood loss. The water that was later found in her lungs and the rope burns marking the skin around her wrists and legs had been evidence that the body had been through prolonged torture right before death.

Additionally, her two middle fingers had been cut off and nowhere found in the scene, leading to the assumption that the murderer had taken them as a prize.

Conclusion; this was a very stylized murder.

It was the work of someone who has done this prior before but it was all too crystal clear. The craftsmanship of cutting off the fingers was a signature that the police knew too well of.

“Jesus, a Narcotics kill? Are you serious?”

The sentence was murmured all around the station. People going bug eyed and then making a despondent face that screamed “well, shit.”

The panic was evident.

Narcotics is a notorious gang that plagues the village of Sellwood, along with other close by towns and cities. They control most of the section in North California, even becoming so powerful that they’re taking over Oregon by brute force alone. Little is known about the people that make up the gang. If spotted in the midst of battle, they would wear masks that were meant to cause fear and to hide their identities.

They are the underground railroads of destruction.

They transport and buy drugs, known for selling them to big companies and people of importance. Most of their money comes from these drug exchanges but the other significant part was the speakeasies. After the banishment of alcohol, they had become the so called “reign of light” for having over thirty speakeasies secretly hidden around town.

Rumor had it that a man who went by the name “Mueller” was the boss and creator of Narcotics. The name had been thrown around here and there but there was no way of identifying him since no records came up.

In more dangerous news, they were also relentless savages that liked to kill on the spot with little to no hesitation.

They had a dark sense of humor.

After dumping a body in a secluded area, they would cut the middle fingers off. It was their disturbing way of making a statement. And now, Sidney Wagner has become a subject to that.

Everyone knew the moment they saw the distressing news that this whole case was going to be a complete and utter failure. The chances of trying to find a Narcotics member, and hell, trying to catch a glimpse of “Mueller” was nearly impossible. It didn’t make it easier that they were also slick and careful, passing off as everyday people by blending in with the crowd.

Jonas watched his fellow coworkers give up before his very eyes.

He could see the way these people are losing every ounce of hope to try to crack this case. How pathetic.

Dean stood next to him, face oddly placid but his hands were in tight fists that looked as if he was holding back the urge to punch someone. He spoke words that had everyone quieting down, “as long as our efforts are strong and strategic, we can manage to push our forces to the limit and then dismantle the gang until we collect enough evidence to put the crime lord behind the murder in jail.”

The sea of policemen’s expressions changed. Not to something positive like he had hoped, but to being even more weary of their commander's words.

Were they serious? Were they seriously going to act like a bunch of good for nothing neanderthals now? Jonas stared, his eyes hard and unfocused. They felt glassy in their sockets.

None of them had been there.

Dean had dragged him along to the crime scene. He rushed out there like a fool, desperate to see if his sister was alright. The moment kept replaying back in his head like the horrendous scratch of a record player on repeat. Standing there… In their little hideout…

God.

Every moment starting from their birth, to all those tasteless childhood memories that was like dry candy against his lips, transitioning into deranged teenage years where blood sliding down his neck and wrists felt natural; All the way to now.

Adulthood had dragged him by the neck with a thick scratchy rope.

However, there is a large comparison to then and now. Then, he had a leg to stand on; moreso an anchor to keep him from disappearing into the depths of the water.

Sidney, his twin sister, his support beam, a constant in his life with a fire that never died down. She was one of the only good things to come out of this greyscale town that left their hopes battered and bruised. In the middle of a depressed era, with their lives laid out for them, she still managed to make him laugh and was ever so confident in her words. It was a world of desperation and greed, so he looked up to her for trying to stay on the bright side.

She spoke like she knew what she was saying.

She was a light amongst piggish faces and power hungry jerks that were always looming over them. Their interlocked hands and innocent doe eyed faces have seen more through the years than the kids with parents that were car sale owners or worked at the local diner. While other kids read magical fairy tales, they were learning how to tell the difference between a gunshot and a firework.

Police life wasn’t something they chose but more of a career path they were meant to drown in. Its murky waters pushed against their lungs until there was no more room to breathe. It was determined that he and Sidney would get used to the feeling of having everything force fed to them. He saw as Sidney tried to swim through, hands reaching up to the surface, trying to adjust in this shallow life they both were thrown in. She fought every single second to be able to feel like their conditions was normal.

While Sidney did all that she could do to make the best out of a terrible situation, he took the liberty of sitting at the bottom and giving up ungraciously. He allowed the pain of saltwater and pressure embedding itself into his body become a norm.

He was the cowardly one out of the two.

Still, they did come to a sort of agreement. They carried on and weaved through, floating into one's space. It wasn’t all that bad at times either. Just like one could appreciate the life of being underwater, they can only learn to understand that the police world was glorious, yet brutal, in its own ways.

It was like a whole new world that not many knew about.

Their hot summer days consisted of watching criminals be dragged in through the doors of the police station, rather than being outside eating ice cream at the park. He and Sidney even doodled on some papers Dean handed them whenever they got bored. Years later, they would learn how to read these papers and discover that were doodling all over old murder and drug cases.

That was fine.

But now he’s not so sure.

How many times has Jonas seen a crime scene? How many of times has he looked over and saw the remnants of blood stains lingering around the room? How many times has he seen dead bodies be carried out by every day paramedics?

Countless of times.

Dean’s idea of an “educational field trip” was taking Sidney and him to the prison cells where they would go up and down, examining prisoners like they were at a zoo watching animals. So really, this wasn’t something he should be squeamish about. Which in theory, is ridiculously messed up, given the circumstances that these were all human lives.

Well… He guesses that all that training of making sure to keep a calm state of mind during violent scenes was now going to waste.

It’s been a day. Or a few hours? He doesn’t know. The flashes of images of yellow tape keep him awake.

There was lots of yellow tape lining the area. Police cars were all in the same vicinity, each of their lights blaring red and blue, it was striking his vision in a way that made Jonas see colorful bursts of dots around the edges.

It hurt.

Was it his eyesight or his sinking stomach?

The need to vomit rested against the back of his tongue as he remembered watching investigators and policemen roam their grubby hands all around the place he thought was sacred. It was supposed to be their secret. Only they should have known about this place; it held too much heart, even with its muddy waves and unpleasant crunchy sand, it was a home. An escape. One he and Sidney went to when times got rough and they needed a moment to think.

It’s almost funny how it could be ruined so easily, now with everyone’s hands groping around and prodding to find something more. He’s going to throw up, the hot rush of fluid fills his mouth but he’s in too much shock to let it spill out. It’s painful. Swallowing it down is like pins and needles dragging down his throat.

She was being treated like another victim.

He had stood there. Not being any use to anyone. Not to her, not to Dean, not even to himself. He only stood there gaping like a fish, feeling every part of his organs slowly start to shut down as the news hit him hard like a smack in the face. No, this time it was worse.

It was a punch, followed by a kick to his stomach, and then being headbutted so hard he falls to his side, writhing. That was the feeling. Except more excruciating than he can ever imagine. This… This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. The yellow tape, the sirens, the white noise that plagued his thoughts, this was all routine.

They would pack up the body, examine for clues, and then be on their merry way.

It’s different now. So vastly different. Is this what the families felt? When they looked them in the eyes and said “I’m sorry, we couldn’t find any further evidence of the murderer.” Was it really this unbearable? Would he ever be the same?

Blood.

There was sand covered in blood, now faded into this dull blackish color. Sick, this is sick. He is sick. People are sick.

Sidney.

His twin sister. She did everything with him. She pulled him through his dark hazes and did her best to never leave him behind. She was always there to nag him around, pinch his cheeks and then lift him in her surprisingly strong arms.

Everywhere she went she would manage to charm someone with her naturally social personality. It left people surprised when she put him above everything else.

She was like a guardian for him. She was one of the only female sergeants in the whole workplace. She is strong willed, funny, smart…

It doesn’t make sense that she would die in this fashion.

His body doesn’t feel real. He’s floating away from this reality and escaping. This is no longer a life worth living if his sister ceases to exist.

She is dead.

Someones telling him to get a grip. He doesn’t register who it is, perhaps the Chief? He never liked that guy. Or was it Dean? He feels himself going cross eyed, the earth giving out beneath him, and oh. Oh is he falling?

She is dead.

His mind is running in circles. They’re dashing and shuddering, turning into an intense tornado that has his world spinning. He is caught in the storm… He wants an umbrella. But she’s gone. She’s gone, she is gone, he will never have another umbrella ever again.

She is dead.

This was how his life ends, huh?

Watching as all these men lose their own confidence. They couldn’t even try to look determined. Are they going to put on a brave face and do everything in their power to find the man who did this to his sister?!

It takes only a beat.

He takes a huge gulp of air as he reaches for the surface. There’s no more time for sitting at the bottom of a lake like a cry baby with no intention of ever doing anything with his life. There is no time. He’s run out of time. Sidney… Dear Sidney. Her clock had been punched out and smashed against the wall before he even had the chance to tell her that he was grateful for her.

Who knew how much time she had left before it was wrenched right out of her.

Jonas can’t do this… He can’t stare at the broken pieces expecting them to mold back together by some miracle.

Stoic.

She didn’t get to live her life to zero.

Why should he?

Sidney Wagner is dead, and Jonas Wagner died right beside her spirit.

It was an end of an era. The end of the person Jonas once was. The end of Jonas being able to take long naps in the middle of the day and going to work with an altered version of a happy outlook on things. He can’t be that person anymore. It was the end of everything that made him once hopeful to come to work every grueling day.

So he starts formulating revenge before he gets a chance to cry.

He hates crying.

“Jonas?” It’s Dean. He doesn’t register that all of his coworkers are watching him silently cry on the platform.

He doesn’t respond.

“Jonas are you okay?”

“No.”

They leave it at that.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s been three days and they begin with a further investigation.

Dean does not tell him that a couple of his best men have already been assembled as a search party. He even hand picked those that were going to be on Sidney’s murder case. It comes to an agonizing shock when he doesn’t see his own name on the roster.

When confronting some of the members of the team they all seemed passive when talking to him. They had stated cold and upfront that Dean had instructed them to not speak word of any details from the case or the investigation. That was downright frustrating, even when he yelled that he was her brother they still turned away. “No one of the public should know too much information,” is what they said. What a huge joke!

He’s part of homicide, he has the right to be on that team, for god’s sake that’s his sister of course he has the right!

Jonas tells him just as that.

“This isn’t fair! Why can’t I join the organized crime team?!” He’s exasperated, the red under his eyes have been much more intense. For someone who loves the sleep, Jonas hasn’t had the time of day to get any shut eye.

“This is no time to throw a fit, you are not a teenager anymore, Jonas,” Dean says while he looks down at him, the visible superior difference between them was overpowering. It’s always made Jonas feel sick to his stomach, the way Dean could make him not only look small but feel small as well.

“I’m not throwing a- Dean, please! This is Sidney we’re talking about!” He doesn’t remember the last time he raised his voice like this. It would have been a death sentence on any other occasion.

“Jonas!” The sudden shout makes him flinch, “you are not going to be a part of the team and that will be all!”

“But you get to?! That doesn’t make any sense!”

“Are you talking back to me?” Dean says, and it’s a phrase that has Jonas reeling backwards to his childhood and teenage years. It shouldn’t scare him anymore, especially not at the age of twenty four. This is stupid.

It’s even stupider when he feels his mouth clamp up and tears well up painfully in his eyes.

“No, I… This is Sidney, she’s- this is-” He’s stuttering, the stinging gets worse.

Dean gives a deep stressed sigh, “this is exactly why you can’t join. You’re too closely connected to the case, your emotions will be a hassle to take care of.”

The angry yells are caught in his throat, the fears of a sixteen year old boy still keeping him in a chokehold. His blood boils, staring incredulously at the other, confused and angered by his selfish words. A hassle? His emotions were a hassle to the case? “ _I’m_ too closely connected to the case? What about you?”

There is a distant look in Dean’s eyes that he can’t quite make out.

“That’s different.”

“How is it different?!”

“Jonas. No more. Go to your station and work on your own cases. We have this under control, don’t get involved.” It was final. Dean never liked repeating himself so he simply watched as Jonas broke down beneath his gaze, the soft crying wracking through his shoulders and fists. Dean shook his head, “Stop that. You are a man now Jonas. Make sure to give your mother a visit at forensics.”

He thinks it’s childish how he keeps chanting in his head how unfair this is.

The murmuring around him had grown incessant. It’s been there for these past few days. Fellow coworkers and pedestrians, that knew Jonas his whole life, are now walking on eggshells around him. The muted whispers of condolences and pity had the hair on the back of his neck standing. They ranged from “poor boy,” to “how come she died and _he_ didn’t.” If he’s being honest with himself, that same question also haunts him.

Then there are ones that has his stomach turning into unimaginable knots. The ones that give up, the people that have Sidney’s honor in their hands and how willingly they’re letting it slip through the cracks of their fingers.

“Why should we bother at this point?

“I don’t understand why Dean’s making us do this again. This happens every month and no progress is ever made.”

“We’ve been looking for three years, it’s time to drop this dontcha think?”

“Yeah but his daughter was the victim and all... “

“What does that matter? We’re never gonna find a trace of ‘em!”

His jaw is starting to ache from how hard he’s clenching it.

Out of anyone in this entire town he knows all of it better! He knows Narcotics’ little antics like the back of his hand. Ever since they showed up about four years ago they have been under Dean’s watch, therefore it was also under his and Sidney- well.. Just his now.

He knows better than any of these rookies how difficult it is to trace them down. All this time he’s watched Dean come back empty handed with nothing to hand over. Jonas didn’t come along to most of them but he could hear all about it at the dinner table. He was never given a chance to actually work on a Narcotics case but he’s the one who's heard about them since day one. Maybe with a hold of  more information and some clever tactics he could… He could...

They’re staring now.

No doubt he looks rabid. His eyes feel blown out and his hands could barely keep steady. He knows… He knows how Narcotics is awfully elusive. It was the worst thing a cop could deal with.

Jonas is not an actual cop though. He may be part of the station but his identity is mostly hidden behind the blank faces of the homicide team. Gang members are probably smart enough to recognize the man in the uniform rather than the one being reluctantly dragged by his adoptive father.

That’s right.

Sidney liked to give him random words of advice at strange times. There was one occurrence where a bunch of rookies kept mixing his case files with the ones from forensics together. He was struggling to fix their mistake when Sidney had seen him stressed out and filing away. She grinned sympathetically, bumped his hip and said, “hey, if you wanna do something right, you gotta do it yourself.”

The words burn into his skin.

Why would Dean rather have their sloppy attitudes rather than his dedicated emotional state? It didn’t make any sense… Whatever. He doesn’t need to be a part of some lazy team that would only drag him down.

If he wants to do something right, he’s gotta do it himself.

That’s how he ends up dragging his old backpack to work at the crack of dawn. Officers linger around here and there but no one’s officially awake to notice his skittering around.

It’s not the first time he’s broken into Dean’s office either.

He and Sidney may have tried to be mostly good kids but what kind of children didn’t get into wild antics? He was trying not to linger on memories that involved breaking in to grab their confiscated candy, and how Sidney had snatched his favorite gummy words right from Dean’s desk… Ugh, anyways. It was easy to get past the lock, being his son was only better because no one would question why he was in there.

There were files upon files, all stacked inside a file cabinet dedicated to Narcotics. They were all a bunch of menaces after all. He took one good look at the load and grabbed as many as he could, stuffing them in his backpack in a hurry.

He knew that Dean rarely looked at old files, which is what he needed. Any information he could get his hands on these insane bullies the faster he could work.

Stage one complete.

The next is easy. Jonas tries not to feel so bad for lying to Dean about this, and he doesn’t get Sue’s opinion because Dean always makes the decisions when dealing with him. That and he doesn’t feel too confident talking to Sue.

It looks to be she’s the one taking this situation with actual human emotions. While Dean is a brick wall, he himself is an overworking nut eating his own feelings, she has become a recluse. Her silence is deafening and no one dares ask her how she’s doing or if she’s okay. She doesn’t get the pity party that people throw at Jonas every day, instead she keeps her air of intimidation but now with a frozen exterior.

He should talk to her. He doesn’t know how.

Besides, he eats his own feelings.

“Dean, sir,” the last bit is a force of habit, “I… I wanted to ask about something.”

“You can not join the team. Haven’t I told you before? You know I don’t like repeating myself.” Dean says and it makes Jonas flinch for a moment before he shakes his head to affirm no. He’s given up asking about that.

“I want… To take time off.”

That makes Dean pause, clearly not expecting to hear those words. He glances up at him, only half-interested but at least there is something there. “Oh...? You’re not doing this to slack off are you?”

“No, sir… I haven’t been myself. You were right,” he hates to say those words, “my emotions are getting the best of me. I’m no use to anyone right now because of it... I shouldn’t be working when I’m not gonna do anything anyways.” He wonders if the words sound too rehearsed, too practiced or lazy.

Dean gives him a shock of a lifetime when he stares a little too hard and then almost has an understanding look on his face.

“If that is what you want, then yes you can take time off.” Dean’s response has Jonas eyes bulging out of his head for a moment before he goes rigid.

“Ah- t-thank you?”

“I expect you to come back… But I get it. Your mother isn’t looking too good either. Your unhealthy emotional state is doing no one good. I expect you to only take a maximum of six months off.” he’s stern, almost unemotional and it scares Jonas how someone can be so calm when dealing with this. Many years of training does something to you, he guesses...

“I-I promise I’m not slacking off on my duties! It’s just cause… Sidney.. Not being here, I…” he almost lets truth shed into his lies but he stops himself before more could be said. Dean nods, not needing to hear anymore either.

It’s almost too easy.

But perhaps he’s reading Dean too much like an empty shell. He has no idea how he’s taking this whole thing in on the inside… No matter, that’s not the focus.

The mounds of files in his bag is pleasantly heavy as he packs away his things from his small office. He passes a glance towards Sue, she looks as if she’s dazed and staring at nothing, he doesn’t do anything and keeps walking. He’ll get the guts to talk to her about this sooner or later… But for now, he has work to do.

He needs something to work with, a lead to follow that will correspond to something- anything! Because let’s face it, after being in the industry for so long Jonas knows more than a few unspoken rules. No matter how careful, or how ruthless and dangerous;

Criminals always get sloppy.

 

* * *

 

 

Jonas likes puzzles.

It was one of those things that Dean never really understood about him. He didn’t know why he would choose simple games rather than enjoy the hard workout of training with Sidney. To put it simply, he sucked at strenuous exercises.

What was even more difficult was the fact that most of the training had to do with combat skills and running.

First of all, he wasn’t a runner. In fact, running is terrible, why would anyone like running? Either way, not his strong suit.

Second of all, he was no fighter. Sure, he wasn’t entirely weak, in fact his punch was kind of strong but always hesitant. He also can’t see himself wanting to hurt someone. He gets angry of course, who doesn’t? But to the point of harming someone else? Not quite.

Maybe that’s why Dean always looked down at him. What kind of police officer wasn’t ready to take on that kind of action at any moment? It didn’t do wonders for his, already fragile, self esteem.

Physically he wasn’t the best. No, he sucked, there was no sugar coating it. So how did he become the officer he was today? Easy, the largest component of himself that made him stronger than anyone else had stumbled in seemingly out of nowhere. It was a gift from Sue, who had picked it out randomly with no intention of choosing something he would actually like.

Puzzles.

All the pieces scattered all over the floor made him excited.

These were pieces that were supposed to be molded together to create a bigger picture. It was painting out a meaning, and if there was anything Jonas liked, it was a solution to a deep rooted problem.

Critical thinking skills.

Without it, you couldn’t survive a day in the investigation world. Brute force was one thing but intelligence was another. Jonas had to admit, being part of the police force was not easy when you can barely run half a mile in the thirty minute span; he’s tried before and he would always end up exhausted and out of breath. Despite not liking that part about himself he knew that he was no hopeless case.

He made it to the homicide team because he was one of the smartest people in their rookie group. He liked the mental aspect rather than the physical, to be able to piece together something until he had discovered an answer was essential.

After all, what’s muscle without brains?

This was all one huge puzzle. He’s done thousand piece puzzles, sometimes even five thousand piece ones, this would be his first ten thousand piece one.

That’s what the files all spread out looked liked to him. They all each carried a key to connecting to one another and therefore making something big. He knew that no one else would be able to do this, it was his own job.

Jonas knew. He had a whole bunch of ideas gathering in his head but they were silenced by Dean.

Their men weren’t the best. They were average, nothing really special about them. In a lesser town called Sellwood, what real importance can there be here? So they were never in their tip top shape. They liked the confines of thinking in their box, he’s not sure how long he can stand it… Dean had never approved his own sparks of creativity.

Breaking your own rules, going undercover, reaching out to the enemy, placing yourself in the wild animal den.

They were all things that were way too risky. Anything could go wrong at any scenic moment. If you were caught you might as well be dead, so that was never an option. It was swept away by all the others.

Until now.

The puzzle pieces are coming together.

Dean would want him to report this surely, but this is not something they didn’t already know.

A big tight-knit event. It was a huge party to commemorate all the success Narcotics has made. Everyone and anyone who wouldn’t rat them out was invited. It was a celebration only held once a month at an in-town speakeasy.

Yes, criminals do get sloppy.

 

* * *

 

 

Well, maybe they’re more clever than he perceived.

Then again, they have reigned power over most the north for an executive four years now. The thought makes him want to grind his teeth into dust.

How annoying.

A planned celebration, although most were invited there were precautions that it must be inclusive. The only way to get in was if you knew the location, and to know that you had to have connections. A “I know a guy who knows a guy,” type scenario.

Speakeasies were already tricky to find as they were suppose to blend in naturally in the environment. Not only was the celebration never consistent in what date it occurs, Narcotics decided to take the precaution of having it at a different speakeasy every single time. He had to hand it to them, they’re definitely not as dumb as they seem.

There must be something.

Anything that can lead him to their little hideout. He’s being reckless, but it’s for Sidney. She was always a wild card that would threaten to give him an aneurysm at the age of twenty. Someone had to live on her legacy, even if he’s not her, he can do her some good.

The days drag on.

He’s made a bulletin board in his room. Everything that has a correlation will be tied together by some red yarn he found in Sidney’s closet. It may be a bit obsessive but if he’s working so hard to the point of not getting his regular eight hours of sleep, then it has to be a sign of progression, right? It has to be.

There are stressful hours of staring down at files and flipping through pages until he stumbles across one that has him doing a double take.

Bingo.

An old coworker file mixed in with the rest.

He recognized her quickly.

She had a presence that was both borderline hardcore and maternal. Even though he never really talked to her, seeing as she was mostly in the background, he had the feeling when she was around, things were controlled and protected. For him at least.

Every day her voice rang through the office, only really talking to one other assistant. He always wondered what they were talking about, always eyeing the area around them and snickering in mirth. Anyways, Jonas liked her. Something about her was… Comforting, maybe even a little familiar… That was until she got fired.

He had been there on the day of her departure. The file included some more details to explain why. It was another missing piece to the puzzle.

She had been fired three months prior due to her excessive drinking problem.

The deputy heavily looked down on her. Since the prohibition had begun, all alcohol was supposed to be terminated and banned, but that didn’t seem to matter to her since she came to work wasted even if it was illegal to do so. It was a disgrace to their community.

On a Friday, she came plastered once again with a bottle of beer hidden in her jacket. She wasn’t really bothering anyone, and Jonas didn’t want to say anything against her but it was clear everyone knew. What she was doing was insane but still, she never did anything to disrespect him. In fact, she was one of the only officers that didn’t put him down. Dean, however, was not having any of it.

He had been the one to fire her on the spot and she had left in style. She smashed the bottle on the ground right, waved two middle fingers in Dean’s face and called him an “obnoxious asshole,” all while kicking the door open and stomped away.

Jonas laughed a bit at that. She doesn’t sound half bad, especially if she could say that to Dean’s face.

Her friend was also fired a day later due to her own drug problem.

Jonas could only hope they’re doing okay. But this wasn’t about her.

He examined the file closer, knowing it had to be a sign.

It couldn’t be a coincidence that she was a drinker, a heavy one at that. In this day and age, there were no more liquor stores open yet she managed to have enough to get her wasted. She had to be getting her supply from somewhere so that only left with one explanation.

She’s aware where the speakeasies are. If so, she could lead him straight to Narcotics. It wasn’t a full proof plan but at least it was something.

It’s all he needed right now. He took off without another word, knowing what he had to do.

She lived on the farther east side of town. Mostly secluded from everyone else and Jonas was glad for the privacy. He appreciated that, it was less likely to bump into someone he knew. He hoped she would recognize him or else this was going to be really creepy. If all goes wrong, he could pretend to be a Jehovah’s Witness member.

The door cracked open.

“Hello- woah woah, is that Jonas, I see!? Holy shit!” Was her response and she flung the door wide open in invitation. She gave him a million dollar smile and pulled him in, “I haven’t seen you in a while! How’ve ya been, kid?”

Jonas was flooded with relief at her positive reaction. He felt the comfort waft from her as soon as he saw her, good thing to know that some things don’t change.

“Ah, I’ve been… Anyways uh, things are. Going,” he said awkwardly. The ex-officer gave him a small smile, but this one sadder and edged in regret.

“I heard what happened to Sidney,” her eyes glanced off, almost as if she was angered at someone, “I couldn’t believe it when I heard it.”

He coughed, “ah… Yeah. It’s-It’s you know- I don’t really wanna talk about it.” He looked over behind her shoulder and saw some beer bottles all over her coffee table. Good, that hasn’t changed either.

“Yeah, you don’t gotta. I’m not ready to have that talk either.” She sauntered over to the couch, sprawling over it and Jonas followed her stiffly.

“Any reason for the visit? Dean still being an assmunch?”

He huffed a breath of laughter, “Um no? I mean, yeah but… The reason I’m here is cause… Well,” he tried to motion towards all her beer and back to her.

“Huh…? Oh. Ohhh!” she grabbed a bottle off the table.

“You want a drink? Here, take it, I don’t mind.”

“Ah not exactly... “ he took a deep breath, “I wanted to know… If you know any speakeasies around?”

She didn’t look too surprised. Almost as if she was expecting that answer. With an all too knowing gaze she said, “You’re not the type to want to know that kind of information. You’re not much a drinker.”

“Y-yeah, I know but… Listen, my sister is. She’s dead. And I need a drink.”

She kept smiling, no trace of any anger or distrust as she kicked off the couch and grabbed a piece of paper and pen. “Any particular place you wanna go to?” She asked while writing down something.

“Oh uh! I heard… I heard there was a big party happening? It sounds like something I needed because… Of everything happening, I would like to uh.. Cut loose?” he was terrible at this. No way was the ex-officer buying any of this.

“Here.”

She cut him out of his own self doubt by handing over the paper. “It’s the directions to the party. Hope to see you there, Jonas.”

He blinked down at her outstretched hand but quickly grabbed it when he realized it had worked. He couldn’t believe it was that easy! “Oh my god, thank you! You’re a lifesaver! I really… Really needed this.”

“Save your cheering. Look, I wrote down some codes you need to get in. Tell ‘em Bud sent me here,’ at the entrance. If you’re looking for drugs, just tell the bartender ‘it’s looking like a smoke planet in this joint.’ That’s the two more used.” She tells him this carefully and he hangs on every word, nodding along.

“I don’t think I’ll be using the drug one but uh… Do you know of any… Codes to talk to gang members?” He asks, trying to seem casual about it.

She’s stunned for a moment before shaking her head, “Nah. But listen, I’ll tell you this. People are always using some kind of weird as shit codes. You can pick some up and it’ll lead you straight to where you wanna be.”

“How will I know what is a code?”

“Trust me, you’ll know.” That’s all she says and then she’s sitting back down. He tries to say his thanks again but is cut off, “Eh, it was no big deal. Just don’t get there looking like a cop or you’ll probably get the shit beaten out of you.”

Jonas eyes widened. She was right. He always takes his uniform everywhere, it was like a second skin to him ever since he started working. Geez, when was the last time he even went out somewhere and been himself?

“Gosh, thanks for the heads up! Really, you’ve helped so much!”

“No need for thanks. Besides, you’ll be thanking me later.”

“Huh?”

She winked at him, knowing something he didn’t. He didn’t dwell on it as she shooed him away, telling him to go out there and “kick ass.”

Jonas was feeling accomplished.

He’s getting one step closer every time.

 

* * *

 

 

This was the worst idea he’s ever had.

He’s ready to bail.

For an entire week he’s been preparing for the actual date of the big bash. He got comfortable not wearing his uniform everywhere, he even got himself a nice pair of suspenders to go with his yellow dress shirt. Though, it did little to nothing to calm the sudden onslaught of nerves crashing over him.

The party scene was never meant for him. It’s proving itself right now as he tries to wrangle himself through countless of dancing bodies crowding the entrance to try and get to the bar. This was going to end terribly.

He sits down at a bar stool, ordering a plain beer when the bartender asks what he wants and tries to calm himself down or else he was going to burst.

After all his work, even if it had been the span of two weeks, it was _something_ and he couldn’t let it all slip down the drain. This was for Sidney. He couldn’t let her down when the opportunity had presented itself.

He gives a small thanks as his beer is handed to him. He doesn’t open it, he’s never one to drink in the first place. The feel of coolness coming from the bottle is comforting and for now it’s enough. Jonas tries to hold back the feeling of smashing his head against the counter and running away before he gets too deep in this situation.

He’s officially prying around in the lion’s den.

Everyone around him is hopped up on some sort of drug or completely plastered. There’s couples making out and skeevy looking drug deals going around. He’s dangerously outnumbered in this environment.

But they don’t know that.

He tries not to let it get to his head but he can’t deny there’s a rush that comes with all of this. There’s a gun resting heavy in his pocket that gives him comfort. Right now, he is the enemy in an area crawling of criminals and drunkards, yet none of them have a clue.

In fact, they believe he is one of them. Essentially, he is.

This isn’t the time to be officer Jonas Wagner of the homicide department. That’s not his part to play anymore.

It’s time to be someone else entirely.

 

* * *

 

 

This is going nowhere.

Jonas knew this would take a while. It wasn’t going to plop down on his lap by a stroke of luck, but even he had limits. He can feel his patience wearing thin as minutes turn to hours.

The party is hectic as ever. In fact, now in the later hours of one in the morning, it’s as wild as ever. More people have showed up, and he can smell the intense aroma of weed plaguing the room, amongst other sweaty, gross, beer like smells. He spots a clump of money and clothes sprawled on the floor and grimaced in distaste.

So this is the party life.

He’s been doing his best to blend in. Skittering around here and there, always getting beers from the bar and then handing it off on someone or scooting them as far away from him as possible. He wonders if anyone can tell how nervous he is.

There are some people he talks to here and there, none of them being very useful.

One woman attempts to grab his face, squishing his cheeks together and calling him “adorable” but he quickly scurries away before she could get her beer scented breath any closer. He tries to hear any codes being thrown around but so far he’s had no luck. It’s becoming infuriating and he wants to call it quits.

This is stupid.

What’s he gonna do if he even finds a gang member?

Ask to be part of the gang? Get on his knees and beg? Ha! As if he would stoop so low!

…  Then again.

Jonas heaves another big dramatic sigh while settling back down at the bar and asking for another beer. His palm rests against his cheek and battles with his internal thoughts. He’s made it this far hasn’t he?

The face of Sidney flashes to his head and it pains him. What if he never finds her murderer? Could he really live life normally after that happened? No, he knows he’ll never be the same. He’s not ready to go back to their empty apartment with no one to greet him at the door. He’s not thinking about cleaning out her room or taking down all the picture frames of them together on the walls. He’s not ready for that. Will he ever be ready for that?

Will he feel miserable like this forever?

Is he short of breath or is that the sticky atmosphere of the bar? Was the world starting to drown? He can’t breathe. He tugs at the collar of his shirt, unbuttoning the top ones but nothing’s working. Stale, hot, and heavy, what’s happening?

Where is he? Is he dying? Will he be with Sidney if he does?

What’s-

“Are you here for the pink tequila?”

Jonas jumps a bit, a tiny yelp escaping his mouth as he whips around quickly, eyes flashing up to meet the much larger man standing above him. He’s horrifying.

Well...  There’s a certain calmness to his presence that isn’t so bad but that doesn’t mean anything. He’s broad, huge, and has paint on his face meant to make him look like a clown of some sorts. He’s downright chilling and Jonas gapes at him, not saying anything for a few moments.

“Sorry if I scared ya!” The hard expression melts away to a more jolly one, “I thought I saw you looking for it? Unless you aren’t...”

“F-for? For what? Sorry I didn’t… Hear you the first time.” Jonas says tentatively. There was no doubt that this man was dangerous, with a fist that could take his head in his hands and crush it there was no way he couldn’t be… But… He had to know something right?

This man clears his throat, looking a bit sheepish, “Are you… Here for the pink tequila?”

Jonas squints at him, the question is just as mind boggling when he asked it the first time. Then he remembers.

_‘Trust me you’ll know’_

This was a code!

This was totally a code!

Jonas has no time to register before he’s enthusiastically nodding, “Yeah! Yeah, I am absolutely here for that, uh, pink tequila!”

A hearty laugh spills out of the much larger man, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he nods, “I knew it! I’m glad I spotted you, I’m guessing you’re a new one and didn’t know who to ask?”

Jonas has no idea what that means but he nods anyways, hoping to play this off.

“Well, I’m Javier, I’m here to escort you!” He says, and gestures his arms towards the back. That’s his cue to move.

Jonas hops off his stool, Javier taking the lead to start walking towards the back of the bar which is… Strange. Not what he was expecting. Jonas tries to peek at his face and he has this… Look that he doesn’t understand. There’s a gleam in his eyes that’s fond but also way too sly to be innocent. What… exactly did he say yes too?

“Through here,” Javier instructs as they go through deeper parts of the bar, all of it spreading out into corridors. Jonas stares at the construction, mouth falling open at the design.

It’s secret. Obviously meant to hide people and keep them away from a more public view. It’s impressive.

They stop in front of a door, he assumes they’re all doorways to rooms. Maybe even to more hallways, who knows?

Javier knocks- well, pounds on the door and Jonas flinches when he hears a crash and boom coming from the inside. Javier seems to see his concern and grins wider, “don’t worry. He’s clumsy.”

That would be a lot more comforting if he knew what that _meant._

There’s heavy footsteps approaching from behind the door and Jonas instinctively swallows in apprehension.

The moment of silence is tense before the door abruptly swings open powerfully. It’s strong enough for the hinges to creak, threatening to rip off, and the accompanied sound of it banging hard against the wall has Jonas hiking up his shoulders in fear.

He sees a strong naked chest- which leads to his next reaction. He doesn’t dare look past this guy’s bare torso, and he fights the urge to cover his own eyes because, what in the heck is wrong with this guy?!

Why is he completely naked?!

This… Creep of a man stands unfairly tall, not bothering to look at Jonas but decided to stare straight ahead, his scary gaze locked onto Javier. Jonas almost feels bad that he has to face this naked guy’s wrath in the first place! Again! Why is he naked?! This is a public space! What the heck did he say yes to?!

“The third one is here,” Javier says simply. What _the heck_ does that mean?!

The creep’s lips turn into a snarl, his hand clenching and holy crap, his hands are huge and covered in bruises. They could kill Jonas in one punch.

“What the fuck? I didn’t fucking order a third one, what kind of-” he finally looks down at Jonas and it’s one of the most terrifying experiences in his life. He makes a soft fearful noise as the man locks eyes with him. Who the hell is he?!

But then something weird happens.

This creep’s anger drops until there’s nothing left but a pair of wide eyes staring down at Jonas.

He’s gaping.

It makes Jonas uncomfortable, why does he feel more exposed when this creep is naked?! And why exactly is he naked?!

“Uhh…” the creep says dumbly before shaking his head, “You know what… I definitely did order a third one. Let him in.” The sly grin that came afterwards was anything but comforting, it sent shivers down Jonas’s spine.

The creep walked deeper into the room and Jonas stood frozen at the doorway. Javier snorts and shoves him forward, “Have fun with Mitch, little dude,” he says and promptly leaves Jonas stumbling and trying to regain his balance. Mitch? This creep’s name is Mitch? Ugh, what an appropriate name, he supposes.

Jesus, what did he get himself into? He looks up to see Mitch, still naked, shuffling around in a drawer next to a bed that looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in years. It’s ripping at the seams with suspicious stains on it.

The smell hits him next and Jonas resists the urge to gag.

It’s sickeningly hot which makes his stomach churn uncomfortably. The worst part about it is that it stinks of sweat and other untrustworthy aromas. Jonas nearly shrieks at the sight of roaches skittering away into the cracks in the walls.

This guy is freaking crazy!

He hasn’t moved from the entrance, just watching in disbelief as Mitch takes out a bag of weed and a pipe, going about doing drugs as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Eventually he notices Jonas and raises an eyebrow at him, “you gonna stand there all fuckin’ day or…?”

Right. He closes the door behind him hesitantly.

“Lock the door, will ya?” Mitch adds unnecessarily and it does nothing to calm his nerves.

He fiddles with the doorknob, his fingers are shaking and he hadn’t even noticed. Why is it that locking the door is now the biggest challenge in the world? His hands are sweaty and his head is screaming not to do this. He could run out right now and never look back again. Oh god, what has he done?

How does this stupid lock work?!

“You’re doin’ it wrong,” he feels the hot breath behind his neck and he shouts, nearly bolting head first into the door. He refuses to press back because this guy! Is still naked! That’s disgusting!

Mitch laughs at him, thinking it’s the most hysterical thing he’s ever seen! What a dirtbag!

He takes the liberty of locking the door for Jonas, oh no, why does the door need to be locked anyways?!

What did he agree to?! Why is this guy not putting on any clothes, is he gonna kill him while his genitals are just!! Hanging out!! Oh christ, what the hell does pink tequila mean?! Was it open invitation to get killed by a creep?!

Thankfully, Mitch moves away and instead plops down on the gross rickety looking bed. He leans over to grab a bottle from underneath and holds it up, waving it like a dog treat, “You want any of this?”

He absolutely does not want anything of this!

Jonas sighs shakily, this is not the time to freak out. This guy is grinning like a damn cheshire cat, he can at least attempt to pull himself together. Play it cool, Jonas. Just tell him… No.

“I don’t really do the alcohols much.”

For God’s sake.

The laugh that erupts from Mitch is horrifying. It sounds like a dying hyena and Jonas doesn’t find this funny at all but goes along with it, awkwardly laughing and wondering if it really is too late to get the heck out of here.

“Jesus, you’re a riot,” he says, a smug look on his face as he looks at Jonas up and down, “So practically a virgin, huh?”

Is that code for some kind of torture?! If he finds out Jonas is a virgin is he gonna kill him for being a loser? Is that it?

He chooses not to answer but to continue laughing alongside him. He’s laughing with a naked man who is getting high and wants to get him drunk, this is the worst day of his life.

“Come on, you don’t wanna get in on this action?” he says, waving the bottle to his face.

Jonas smiles, but he’s sure it looks more like a grimace as he shakes his head, “I really.. Don’t drink much.”

He’s expecting this guy to keep pushing it but he shrugs, “Eh, hope you’re okay with me getting fucking plastered in that case!”

‘Wow, he’s gonna kill me while he’s drunk, this is going to hurt so bad,’ Jonas thinks to himself and is sending his last prayers in his head, knowing that he’s not gonna get out of this without some kind of divine intervention. He hasn’t responded, too busy thinking while Mitch awkwardly waits for a response that’s never coming.

“Well, I’m gonna take your silence as a ‘oh Mitch, that’s not okay with me at all,’ right?” He says, raising his voice higher when he pretends to be Jonas. Jonas scrunches up his nose in offense at his impersonation of himself, he doesn’t actually sound like that, does he?

“Uh…” What does he say to that?! “Oh gee, well I never met you before mister but I’m kind of fearing for my life right now and I’d rather you be sober while you kill me!” As if!

Mitch is squinting at him, putting the bottle down and tilts his head to one side, “you don’t strike me as the kind to do this sorta thing.”

_What thing?_

“So what brings you here? Come on sit, the beds not gonna eat you.”

_Well it all started with my sister dying, how about you sir? Any reason why you’re naked in a room that’s in a hidden corridor of a bar?!_

He sits down slowly, making sure to keep Mitch at an arm's length.

“I uh… I needed a drink.”

“Oh? So you do want some?”

He shakes his head, “I was uh… Thinking of something lighter.”

Mitch laughs at him for the millionth time in the last five minutes that they’ve met, “Well… I can think of something _much_ lighter.”

_What does that mean._

“What does that mean.” He’s lost.

“Oh, I think you know _exactly_ what that means,” his voice is too suggestive for the situation and he has yet to figure out what the heck that means!

_Are you there God? It’s me, Jonas._

_Do you remember me? Please? I don’t really want to die today? Please?_

“Haha, yeah.” He’s trying to conceal most of his distress but he’s not sure if he can do this anymore.

The “lighthearted” atmosphere seems to dissipate from Mitch’s head because he suddenly turns serious. Or maybe that’s worse? Is it worse?

He looks down at his hands, trying not to meet Mitch’s gaze.

“Hey.”

“Hm?” This is nerve wracking, is he going to kill him or what?

“We don’t have to do this is you don’t want to.”

That has Jonas looking up and jerking his head quickly to face him, not believing what he’s hearing. Is he giving him an out? The genuine turmoil of his face reads that he’s being truthful but why? What has changed? Shouldn’t guys like him be merciless and take out anything blocking their path?

He’s staring, not sure if he’s astonished or confused. Mitch takes one look at him and for a split second Jonas swears he sees anger in his eyes.

He doesn’t get a chance to say anything before Mitch continues, “If you’re here long enough they’ll still give you your cut. Just hang out here, you can take a hit or anything.” He motions towards the lonely bag of weed on top of the drawer.

“O-okay? I mean… I don’t need uh, the…” Jonas trails off. This is already a trainwreck, he doesn’t need to dig himself into a deeper hole.

For all he knows this guy is still going to end up killing him one way or another. No one is ever going to know what happened to Jonas Wagner, he’ll become an unsolved mystery with his sister. Hey, in the afterlife he could tell Sidney that he tried his best but didn’t succeed. We all make mistakes, it happens to the best of us!

Although, is getting trapped in a room with a naked murderer an incident that happens to the _best_ of people?

Well, who really knows?

He hears Mitch curse, shuffling around and notices that he’s trying to tug on a pair of pants. Finally! That makes this situation suck, like, one percent less!

Mitch flops down on the mattress, sprawling out a bit that Jonas has to scooch over to the edge of the bed so he can keep a distance away from him.

“You can join me in laying down but I won’t do anything too weird,” he opens the bottle of hard liquor, taking a small swig of it and Jonas looks down to the floor to try to disassociate from this reality.

So the naked man is now wearing pants, albeit not a shirt but whatever, you can’t have everything. The chances of him being killed has wavered slightly, he thinks. One thing for sure, this is the weirdest thirty minutes of his life and he’s wondering when this nightmare will come to an end, if it even _does_ come to an end.

He’s completely blowing this. Why should he even bother after tonight? He’ll just come crawling back to the police station like a lost puppy by next week and accept the fact that Narcotics really is an unreachable goal.

“Hey.”

Jonas jerks away from the sudden closeness between him and Mitch. He didn’t hear him sit so close to him, gosh their thighs were touching and everything. Thank God he put pants on...

“Fuck, you’re jumpy.” He said, sounding amused that he could make Jonas into such a squirming mess. “You know, don’t like, get weirded out but, you’re probably the prettiest one I’ve ever seen.”

Jonas gives him a long hard stare, and Mitch is scratching the back of his head, looking like he just said something stupid. “Wait shit- I mean, don’t take that the wrong way? It’s just- shit- I’ve seen a lot of- wait-”

“What?” he asks.

“You’re- fuck- you’re pretty?” It’s more of a question than a statement but it has Jonas feeling flustered. What the heck is that supposed to mean?

“I don’t- I don’t understand?”

“Like, shit-” Mitch takes this moment to go into a coughing fit, his face probably redder than the blood staining his hands, “I’m serious! You’re uh, pr- yeah- and uh… I’m gonna be sad to see you go.” He gains some confidence back in the last sentence but it has Jonas completely out of it.

Wait a minute.

Sad to see him go?

Holy christ he’s going to freaking die. This is it, this is where it all comes to an end, he’s going to die by the hands of a shirtless maniac!

“Are you freaked out? You’re freaked out, aren’t you,” there’s a flurry of emotions Mitch is conveying and Jonas has no idea what to do.

“I-I’m not? I’m… Surprised,” he says, cringing a bit at his answer. That’s one way to put it…

“Surprised? What, ya mean no other fucker has given you a compliment?”

Sidney has.

He glances away, choosing not to answer. He hears a soft “holy shit, really?” as if it were some shocking thing to here.

One second Jonas is staring hard at the floor, hoping that this really is some sort of fever dream and the next, a large hand is engulfing the right side of his cheek, making him look up at the eyes of his?? Killer? Torturer? Shirtless guy?

“I’m serious, how have I not met you before?” He asks, voice an octave lower and it has Jonas’s palms sweating profusely, not knowing whether to look away or not.

Is this how he gets his neck snapped? He’s gonna freaking kill him right now.

Before he gets a chance to say anything there’s a large sudden clang coming from down the hall that has them both facing the door.

The doorknob jiggles a few times before going still.

They glance at each other, waiting for something to happen. That’s when the door bursts open, the hinges bursting open and a huge dent in the wall was left where the knob hit. A woman, who was short in stature with an impressive shade of green hair, stood, dangerously heaving at the doorway.

“MUELLER. WE GOTTA GO.”

She shouted at top volume, looking absolutely rabid.

“Oh fuck, what the fuck happened?!” Mitch stood up quickly, scrambling to find more of his clothes and this woman shakes her head, bouncing up and down impatiently.

“There’s no fucking time!! Mueller, let’s go we’re burnin’ daylight!” she agonizes and that’s when Jonas has a huge revelation.

Mueller?

Mitch fucking Mueller?!

He gasps, nearly falling off the bed. No fucking way, there is no way this is _the_ Mueller. Leader of the Narcotics?! He was in a room with a notorious murderer after all?!

His hand goes to his back pocket right away to grab his gun and to take Mueller down once and for all, except...

The gun isn’t there.

What the hell?! Where did he put it? Did Mueller swipe him when he wasn’t looking. No, he swears he had it all night. He’s looking frantically around the bed but it is nowhere in sight. What did he do?

Mitch is now dressed, looking impressive in his tailored suit but he’s obviously pissed off. “Hey!” Jonas startles and looks up at him with wide eyes. Oh my god, he’s seen ruthless Narcotics leader naked. What was he going to do with this information?!

He steps over, tilting Jonas’s head upwards and it has his mouth going dry.

“Tell your pimp to tip you extra. If he gives you hell, tell him to talk to Mueller about it.” He taps his finger against the underneath of Jonas’s chin before moving away. The girl at the door screams at him and grabs him by the arm before running away.

Jonas hears Mitch shout “Javier, get him!” and then the rushing footsteps fade away.

He stares, his mouth is wide open and he probably looks like a fish out of water. His knees threaten to give out under him.

A guy being naked when answering the door. “Ordered a third one?” The code word being pink tequila out of all things. Prettiest one he’s ever seen.

Pimp.

Mitch Mueller, the most dangerous man alive, the leader of the most feared gang alive,  has killed people out of cold blood, thought he, Jonas Wagner, was a _fucking_ prostitute.

_That’s why it’s called pink tequila and he thought I was a prostitute and that was Mitch Mueller. He had his. Thing out. For him. To touch???_

“Hey! Mitch got me, you’re still here?! Come on we have to go!” Javier shouts while running through the door, lifting up Jonas like he weighs absolutely nothing and hauling him out the door. He regains back his senses and pulls himself out of Javier’s grasp and decides to run instead of being carried.

“Huh!” Javier said, clearly impressed, “Surprised you can still walk!

 _Oh my god he thinks I- Mitch and I- he thinks we DID it!_ Jonas screams internally, running outside the bar through the back and distantly he hears police sirens. It sounds like home.

“You need to go find your friends! Take care of yourself!” And then Javier is running off, leaving Jonas alone as he’s still trying to understand what just happened. And did it really happen or is he hallucinating?

He keeps running.

Away from the bar, away from weird secret rooms at the back of the bar, and away from Mitch freaking Mueller. Who again, thought he was some kind of prostitute.

He runs all the way home. Halfway he has to start walking since he’s not used to exuberant amounts of exercise and the running had him hunched over the street, holding back the burning need to throw up. He doesn’t, thankfully, but the itch is strong and it’s pooling at the back of his throat, even when he comes home to an empty home.

In fact, it gets more intense. He tries to push it away, sitting down on the couch and staring down at all the files, unmoving.

Tonight was a catastrophe.

He didn’t die, though. He tries to remind himself that it’s _something_. Plans have changed, and that’s okay. He opens the cap of his pen with his teeth, scribbling down his progress like a wild man on a mission.

The pride that was accumulating before is now being crushed down spectacularly. He can let it dissolve if it was for Sidney. Sometimes things to go the way you planned out, he was going to beg for a position in the gang and now he’s a prostitute. That’s.... Fine. At least it wasn’t a waste, that’s for sure.

In fact, this is for the best. He has more insight than any officer in this entire town has.

He has names, he has the codes, and more importantly, he knows how Mitch Mueller looks like. Even better, from what he could gather, Mueller has taken an… Interest in him, That part makes his skin crawl but it’s all part of arrangement. He’s on his good side, and though it’s more… Sexual than he had hoped, it’s still isn’t bad.

He circles the code “pink tequila” knowing very well what he has to do. If that’s what it takes to bring him to Mitch again then he’ll use it as much as he can at every speakeasy he goes to. He needs a story, something to make him believable.

Pimp.

That’s right.

A problem can commence. His… imaginary keeper has tossed him away because he had asked for more money. He can play the damsel in distress card, crawling to every speakeasy searching for _the_ Mueller and beg to give him a job in Narcotics. It’s not perfect, it has several holes and if all goes wrong, his life could be at stake.

He’s willing to try.

It’s humiliating and revolting to think about stooping to this level but this is for Sidney. If he could continue to get on Mitch’s good side then he can find out all the information he needs to know. He’ll find out how and why he chose to kill Sidney, he’ll gather the evidence and slam it down on Dean’s desk.

He’ll become Sellwood’s hero, but above everything else, he’ll have done Sidney justice.

This will work.

It has to.

 

* * *

 

 

Nothing happens.

Not instantly.

He asks the ex-officer again for more speakeasy locations. She hands them all over like she trusts Jonas, he doesn’t know why but she just calls him a good kid who couldn’t do anything wrong. He can’t help but think that’s a bit condescending but when she said it there was no malice in her tone.

And anyways, he greatly appreciated her help.

The first few he goes to winds him up with no further information. He tries to spot some familiar faces, hoping to run into Javier, maybe even that woman with green hair.

They’re never there.

Another trouble has surfaced that has to do with his health deteriorating as the days go by. It starts off with hunger pains, then comes the bar nights where he’s trying his best not to fall asleep on his stool and how at night he’s more fidgety than ever. It’s harder to sleep when the presence that was there all his life is no longer in the other room. He tries to shove it away and keep his head where the objective is.

He does a better job at approaching others, that way he won’t be so vulnerable and alone the entire night. He’s less of an outsider than he is a part of the world of drunkenness and bubbly on goers.

On one night he is the one being approached by a man in an expensive looking suit.

It lasts for only two minutes. He inquires about Jonas and asks him if he’s a newcomer. He asks for his profession but Jonas dodges the question with ease. The man gets bored, a passive look on his face before walking away and making some sort of call on a strange looking device. He’s no help to him.

It’s been another week.

Today is Friday. He used to like them but now it’s a day full of regret and memories he would rather wipe away.

It’s also the day where the speakeasy gets more business than usual. It’s a loud buzz of people chattering away, the music is set to a higher volume and if he listens hard enough, it could clear his head into numbness.

He tries to drink the beer that’s set out in front of him but it tastes like dry urine sliding down his tongue. He really doesn’t want to be here. The thought of his cleanly made bed set out with warm blankets is becoming more and more tantalizing. When was the last time he slept more than three hours at night?

Another swig of beer goes down into his hungry stomach. He doesn’t bother talking to anyone, from here he could see that everyone is too busy having fun.

Frustration is seeping into his pores and the incessant nagging in the back of his head telling him to give up grows louder every minute. Besides, from here he can tell that there is no sign of Javier or that woman anywhere.

The painful want to see Mitch again is fervent as ever and it only grows in intensity. He must talk to him again. He needs to get the evidence to completely ruin his life for good.

“You.”

The hand on his shoulder startles him, and he goes to smack the hand away but stops when he sees an unfamiliar face.

He has blonde hair tied back in a really sloppy ponytail, he can’t see his eyes but he does see the deep bitter scowl on his face. Without even needing to see his stare, Jonas can tell that he’s looking at him with the utmost disapproval.

“Ugh, he would.” He said, being super vague and sitting right next to him.

“W-what? Who are you?” he asks, pulling his own beer closer. He may not have a weapon on him but he won’t hesitate to crack this bottle over his head.

“Boss saw you out here,” he grumbles, he sounds awfully southern. What’s he doing in this part of- wait? Boss?

Jonas looks at him even more perplexed and he groans in response. He slams his hand down, “Ya here for the pink tequila or what?!” The shouting would have scared him but all Jonas can feel is glee taking over.

“Y-yes! Yes I am!” He smiles, feeling the best he has in days. The guy frowns harder, making a “tch” noise and getting up. He motions Jonas to follow him and he is happy to oblige.

It’s another trip to the back, going down carefully placed doors and all Jonas can hear is his own heart in his ears. He’s really going to do this. After this, there is no turning back. They stop in front of another door, the guy banging on it without a care.

Similar to before, the door slams open.

Jonas prepares himself just in case he’s naked again but, thank goodness, he’s not. In fact, Mitch looks more well put together and dapper than ever.

“Ha, it’s really you.” His relaxed grin takes over but turns cold when glancing over at the blonde. “Get the fuck outta here, Cliff.”

The guy, Cliff, nods once before pushing Jonas on the shoulder and stalking off.

Jonas walks in, more confident than before and Mitch plops down on the bed at the center. It looks cleaner than the one at the other bar but not much better. Still, Jonas sits next to him and tries to mind the stains.

“I heard you’ve been looking for me?” Mitch asks, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter casually. He goes to hand one over but Jonas rejects it.

“Ah, yes. I have, how did you know?” The thought of someone watching him isn’t pleasant.

“A few of my guys have noticed you around here and there. Thought you were a fuckin’ assassin but I knew you weren’t.” He laughs, and Jonas tries not to point out how he pronounced “assassin” wrong.

“Yeah I-I’ve been looking for you,” he said, trying to really get into his character. He’s supposed to be a feeble, dog loyal mess. It’s shameful but it’s a part he knows how to play excellently.

Mitch notices the change of demeanor and blows out a puff of smoke, “Did your pimp do something?” Hell, he sounds murderous. “Did he not pay you? I swear, if you need me to _break_ his fucking face in for you I’ll fucking do it, I won’t fucking-”

“No! No that’s fine!” he says quickly, “I don’t wanna- I mean- I just… I wanted to see you again.”

A comedically flustered look flashes across Mitch’s face before it reverts to being smug, much more like his character, “Oh? So you wanna… try again?”

Crap, no.

He’s not afraid to shake his head. He’s aware how deep he can get caught in this lie but… No one has to know. Mitch will never know unless he gets too sloppy so he won’t. He’ll make dang sure of it.

“No I don’t I.... I escaped him, my- yeah.” He looks down embarrassed, purposefully making himself sound sadder than he really is.

“Woah, holy fuck. And you’re okay?” Mitch grabs his arm, tugging him so that he’s facing him. His eyes are roaming all over Jonas, trying to see any sign of hurt.

Jonas shrugs, “It’s okay. I wanted to see you again because… because…” He tries to think of something desperate to say and goes with the first thing that comes to mind.

“Because no one’s ever… Stopped like you.”

_Jesus this isn’t good._

The hurt look Mitch has is almost too agonizing to look at it.

“Christ, yeah. I’m not about that shit. That kind of stuff is fucked up, you shouldn’t force yourself.” He says, and Jonas nods slowly.

He’s amazed that Mitch of all people is above the idea of rape. He thought people like him would be completely disgusting in all departments. It almost seems… Human. Ugh, what’s he going to do with this new information?

A surge of guilt starts bubbling in his stomach but he stops it. He stops because why should he? He reminds himself exactly why he’s here. This is the mob boss that has killed so many innocent people. This is the man who ruined countless lives. This is the man who is very well responsible for the death of his twin sister.

So what if he’s lying through the skin of his teeth?

This man deserves it. Jonas will continue to play this part until he get’s what he wants. The plan is as such, joining the gang and getting the evidence.

“I guess… I should leave. Sorry for bothering you, I just wanted to say thank you. It gave me the confidence to leave my- y’know.” Jonas stands up, a sad smile on his face. He’s ready to turn around and never return, it’s his very last chance.

“Wait.”

The well timed hand grabs at his wrist and Jonas knows what’s coming next.

“Do you… Have anywhere to go?”

Hook line and sinker.

“Not really… I’m gonna try and find a job to get better. Wait tables or shine people’s shoes or something.” He adds a melancholy sigh for effect and it does the trick.

“Dude- fuck no. You don’t deserve that,” he grimaces, grabbing Jonas’s shoulders and pulling and he sees the gears turning in his head. “Fuck, there can be a place for you here, in Narcotics. You a fighter?”

_It freaking worked._

Jonas has popped open a bottle of sparkling champagne in his head and he’s a split second away from jumping in glee. It worked, it actually worked! He took the bait! Now all he has to do is… Act his way through.

He gives a shocked gasp, shaking his head and looking up at Mitch with sparkling eyes, “Oh, no! No, you don’t have to! I’m not a fighter or do anything- I wouldn’t be any good to you-”

Mitch shushes him, their faces are uncomfortably close and Jonas tries not to gag. The hand on his shoulder slides up to caress his cheek, “It’s okay. I wanna do this for you. Are you good at running?”

He almost snorts at that, “No, god, no. I’m the worst runner in the world.” He laughs a bit and Mitch lets out a low chuckle as well, it’s a horrible sound.

“Shit how about… File sorting? Gotta shit ton of idiots that don’t know how to do that. Do you know how?”

Jonas smiles easily, feeling a bit mighty in this moment. Years and years of collecting files and helping Sidney assort her work papers, as well as knowing how to sort files ever since the age of seven? Please.

“I can definitely do that.”

“Oh Jesus Christ!” They both break apart at the intrusion. Cliff is standing at the entrance looking scandalized. Jonas didn’t even hear him come in, he was too focussed on Mitch.

“Hey boss! Wanna stop flirting with the fat prostitute? We’ve gotta head back to the base!” He drawls. Jonas frowns at that, not liking that personal jab to him and it looks like Mitch didn’t like it either.

Mitch glowers at Cliff, one fist clenched at his side as he steps forward, “what the fuck did you say you hillbilly fuck?”

The once confident man suddenly shrivels in on himself, “Uhh uh, we uh, gotta go? Now?”

Mitch comes closer and Cliff has to hunch backwards at the distance, “I fucking _own_ you. You better watch your fucking mouth.”

The change is vastly different. The entire time they were together Mitch seemed very… Easy going.  It was almost hard to believe this guy was the leader of Narcotics but now… Not anymore. The absolute disdain in his voice has shivers going down his spine.

Cliff nods, and Mitch shoves him so hard that he smacks his body against the wall behind him. “Get the fuck out of here. I’ll be out in a second, and hey. You better respect our new rookie, or else.”

The news hits Cliff fast, and his mouth is open like he can’t believe it. “What? Seriously?!”

Mitch’s arm shoots out, grabbing a fistful of Cliff’s shirt before slamming him down into the floor. Jonas jumps at the thudding sound and winces when Cliff groans in pain. “Get the fuck out if you know what’s good for you!”

Mitch kicks the side of his torso and it has Cliff crawling to get up, stumbling down the hall before he gets on his feet to run away.

Jonas didn’t know his breathing had picked up until Mitch looks over at him and grins bigger. He’s a monster.

“We’re heading back to the base. We can start there if ya want.” He grabs a hat that was sitting on the nightstand and puts it over his head, the shadow hiding the top part of his face. Jonas goes over to him and Mitch easily wraps his arm around his shoulders.

They walk out together, although, Mitch is doing more of the leading and Jonas is just sweating under his arm, completely terrified of the man touching him.

While they’re walking Mitch looks down at him, “Never got a name, spots.”

Oh yeah.

Jonas exhales shakily, “It’s… Jonah.”

“Well, Joey it is then.”

His life ends here.

 


	2. Act 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Act! Sorry this one took longer than expected but I hope it was worth the wait! This time around the word count nearly reached to 16k!
> 
> As always, all the characters and Long Exposure belong to Mars (Smokeplanet on Tumblr)
> 
> Please support and read Long Exposure on Tumblr or Taptastic, Mars is a really great person WHO IS ALSO MY BETA FOR THIS FIC! Huge thanks to her and all of you guys sticking around to see updates!
> 
> Some warnings for this Act: Prostitution mention, gore, gang members being assholes

 

He glides his fingers across the smooth metal surface of the gun barrel.

The long cylinder shaped opening was unscratched and looked as if it were shined once or twice a day. All in all, it was in mint condition, hardly ever used and was heavy with a a few rounds of clean looking bullets.

A colt police positive.

Typically only used by the police, invented in the 1900s but was later on perfected. This is one of their finest models. He especially adored the little touch of having the county station name embroidered into the handle. The adorable hunk of metal didn’t stand a chance against their faster reloading handguns. It was a baby next to their collection of tommy guns and it was hilarious to look at.

“Why did you bring me this joke?” he asked, playing with the delicate looking handle. One of his men stood in front of the lush wood of his desk, standing rigged with tension in his shoulders with shaky hands. “Well? Spit it out, I don’t have all day.”

The man let out a trembling breath, looking regretful in his own decision of showing his leader the gun in the first place. He swallows visibly, “I… I found it.”

“So? That means very little to me-”

“I found it-”

“Did you just cut me off?” He says slowly, venom dripping from his lips. He lays the revolver down, folding his hands on his desk and taking this man apart with his eyes. He is of no importance to him, and he would be easy to break with the will of his men. He watches him squirm and try to apologize, choking on his own tongue and looking pathetic.

“You have wasted my time enough. Leave before I decide to let the dogs eat you alive in the pen.”

“P-please, sir. I’m worried that-”

“Say what you need to say in the next five seconds. You have disrespected me for the last time so go on, share your information. I will decide if it’s enough to spare your life.” He leans forward, hands still folded as he smiles slowly. The man looks even more disorganized than before and it’s a lovely sight.

“One… Two…” He counts and the man squawks like a chicken, hands going everywhere and nowhere at once.

“That is a colt police positive! Only used by the police but I found it in a speakeasy of all places. I believe they are trying to infiltrate the area by going undercover!” His man talks quickly, tripping over words and sounding fearful. Still, it is enough to get the point across. He stops counting, thinking of what he said.

A gun like this found in one of the speakeasies? There is no way those cowards are starting to think outside the box and trying to hide themselves in plain sight. Or perhaps a traitor is among them? Unlikely yet…

“Do you know who this belongs to?” he asks after a moment's silence. His eyes never leave from the gun, his thumb tracing the station symbol lightly. How peculiar…

“N-no sir. It was found dropped near the bar, some people recognized the gun and were scared a cop was trespassing.”

“Hmm…” he unloaded the gun to feel the bullets in his palm. They were nice, only a few inches long but powerful enough to kill. He couldn’t help but think how nice they would look piercing through a thick headed skull. He put the bullets back and slumped back in his seat, “thank you. That’s enough.”

The man blinks owlishly, perplexed. “T-that’s all? I’m uh… Not in trouble?”

“No, no… Not at all… Thank you for giving me this.” He nods towards the door, the conversation over. The man doesn’t move from his spot and he glowers, “You will be in trouble if you keep standing there like a fucking fool! Now  _ leave _ !” 

The man stumbles backwards, hitting his back against the door before quickly making his leave. He lets out a laugh, it’s always so humorous to watch rookies completely piss themselves while getting yelled at.

He hums in delight, and continues to fiddle with the cheap looking gun.

_ There is no way...  _  he starts to think but lets it dissipate rather fast. There is no way he’s figured it out so early on.

He gets lost in the feeling of the familiarity of the symbol against the gun. It overwhelms so much that he lifts it, pressing a sweet kiss against the police brand.

“You are so very interesting indeed.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Watching the sun drip down the horizon in a heavily guarded and weapon ridden base does wonders for how you perceive the world.

Jonas doesn’t like thinking about time passing by.

The days add up and suddenly he’s run out of fingers to count how many have passed. The red under his eyes get darker and his spirits fluctuate so frequently that it leaves him dizzy. No amount of police training would have prepared him for the exhaustion that comes with physically having to pretend that everything's alright when it’s not.

Perhaps he should have took up acting in school.

Actors go every day wearing a pair of shoes that aren’t their own. They walk in a way they usually wouldn’t because they must keep the illusion of being someone else. Jonas wonders if there’s ever been an actor that was so caught up in a different character that they lost sight of who they originally were. There is no way to know for real so he tries to stop the train of thought as soon as it starts.

It’s been exactly a month since Sidney died.

He remembers crying but it never lasted long. The multitude of thick layered walls he’s put up are a nice distraction. He studies every brick and crack, locking away a deeper fear that he’s not ready to face.

There was the start of his investigation, finding his leads, and then falling straight into the pathway of Narcotics leader, Mitch Mueller. Why he isn’t dead yet is an unanswered question that he doesn’t want answered. He accepts it the way it is because it will get him closer. Mitch had put his arm around him and lead him to his new workplace, and he had followed without a word because that was his role. The obedient little puppy.

When he first stepped foot in the base he was surprised by its surroundings.

It took form of a trailer park.

He had some idea what Narcotics base would look like. A huge intimidating building that screamed trouble, some kind of underground secret area, maybe even an inconspicuous looking house, but a trailer park that looked completely harmless? That was the last thing he thought it would be.

To their defense, it was a very impressive looking trailer park. As impressive as a trailer park can get, that is.

Mitch had given him a tour around, the insides of the trailer park not looking ordinary but in fact, very large and polished. Although, there was obviously a very delinquent aura to everything. They were a gross gang, beer cans littered everywhere and there was no distinction between the smells of weed, beer, and cigarettes.

It was revolting and Jonas had to get used to it.

“This is your trailer! It’s been empty for a while now, so uhh… Don’t mind the webs.” Mitch had said when he introduced where he would be staying.

It was a regular old trailer, the inside wasn’t anything special. A worn down looking bed, some left over beer bottles, and dead bugs that’ve been there for who knows how long. The germaphobe inside Jonas was shrivelling at the sight but he kept a smile, telling Mitch it was better than his previous conditions.

A little white lie wrapped in a huge lie never hurt anyone….

After that, Jonas was mostly in his head thinking how exactly he was going to run between his “new home” to his actual home. It’ll be tough but he’s willing to do so, it’s not as if they’ll check up on him in the middle of the night.

He comes back to reality when Mitch shows him the trailer that is filled to the brim with all their files.

It’s a war zone.

Metal cabinets were overflowing with a bunch of work papers, most of it was all over the floor and some of the drawers were even knocked over. The disorganization betrayed everything Jonas knew of and he had no idea how these jerks managed to get so far without knowing a single thing on the roster.

“This place is such a mess,” he said in awe, lifting up some papers off the ground and making an incredulous sound. Some of these were dated back three years!

“Haha yeah,” Mitch laughed, looking at the pig-stye of a place with pride, “These dumb fucks don’t know how to do anything. We never used this shitter for anything, caused a lot of problems.”

“Well of course it would, how do you schedule things or remember past customers?”

“Uhh… We remember everything?”

Jonas rolled his eyes, “how professional...”

He stops.

That sarcasm was too much like  _ Jonas  _ and not very  _ Jonah _ .

“Oh heck, I’m sorry- was that out of line?” He asks, much more vulnerable. Mitch lazily grins at him, reaching his hand up to mess up his hair so it’s pointing in more ridiculous directions.

“Not at all, Spots! Didn’t think you had the balls to talk back!” Jonas pushes his hand away slightly, not ripping it off like he wants to.

Mitch folds his arms across his chest and kicks some more stuff out of the way, “Well, this is where you’re going to work, might as well get comfy. We don’t got much of a uhh, system, so that’s kinda your job to figure out!”

Jonas sighs.

That is an awful amount of work.

On the brighter side, this is what he wanted. Getting access to the archives like this is incredible. Having every factoid and information to take Narcotics down once and for good. All he has to do is grab a bunch of these papers and take them back to the station, he’ll tell them everything he’s found and that should be the end of it… But…

That’s not enough.

It makes him feel selfish. He could book it right now and tell them everything. He doesn’t have to sit here and organize files all day. His whole plan could be cut significantly short…

Except, he wants it right in front of him.

Narcotics has done everything in the crime book. They could get arrested for all their crimes from drug dealing to murder, but it isn’t enough.

Why Sidney?

Out of everyone in this entire town they chose Sidney, but why? What was the purpose?

It could have been a scenario where they chose a random cop on the force and chose to kill her. Maybe it was completely coincidental and Sidney was just that unlucky. There’s even a chance Sidney was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but no.

She hadn’t been doing anything.

The last time he saw her was in the morning of their home. She hadn’t made breakfast because she woke up late. She didn’t have work that day because it was a Saturday, she had those days off. She had squished his cheeks and said to stop being so grumpy when he had complained about there not being any food to eat. It was a normal Saturday.

He had work and she didn’t.

While he got ready for work, she bragged about how she was gonna lug around all day and watch some black and white films without him. He called her lazy and Sidney had jabbed him in the stomach.

The last thing she said to him was her plans to go to the grocery to pick up some eggs in the afternoon.

He said, “alright, and don’t forget the milk” and left.

Then he came home to an empty house.

It didn’t make sense.

Nothing added up and he couldn’t be in the dark any longer.

He needed to know why Narcotics targeted Sidney. He wanted to drag out the details before his mind collapses in on itself from thinking too hard. There had to be some sort of correlation or else he’ll go insane from the unknown.

His first day is a blur of angrily stacking up papers. He attempts to clean the place of crumpled up pages and beer bottles. He’s aware that he’s going to read every single one of these pages to get any insight on anything possible. To his dismay, a lot of the dates are all mixed up and he’s not sure where the recent ones are. They’re all lost in the flood of disorganization.

Well, it would have been too easy if everything was in one place he supposes.

It’s a challenge.

He likes challenges.

There is a lot of them when trying to fit into this new environment. It’s like entering a whole new world that always smells like trouble.

Mitch usually walks him around.

He notices that when Mitch is around everyone’s eyes are downcasted. Wherever he walks the world goes silent, be it out of fear or respect.

So it’s painfully obvious that when Jonas walks alone that there’s a shift. People openly glare at him, whispering curses and probably thinking of how he doesn’t belong here. He doesn’t blame them.

All of these members have visible tattoos, piercings, and shaved parts of their heads. They all have their very own tailored suits and looks that could kill, all he has is yellow shirts and geeky suspenders. He doesn’t want to be weak, but he also wishes he could hang off Mitch more. Although, he’s not… Entirely alone.

“Holy shit!” He hears one day and it’s a voice so familiar it has Jonas smiling, even if it’s only a little.

Javier is a nice guy.

Well… The most okay out of all of them. As okay as someone can be with tattoos littering their entire body, including their face. Jonas doesn’t trust him and he doesn’t like how Javier picks him up every time he greets him but he’s… Alright. Besides, he’s grateful that he so generously saw him that day in the bar and lead him to Mitch.

“It’s really you! That son of a gun hired you!” Javier is positively radiant to see him and he punches Jonas in the arm. It hurts more than he wants to admit.

While rubbing his wound he smiles up at the… Clownish man, “Yeah uhh.. Hi.”

“Sorry your ass got stuck working on archives. No one has properly filed shit in ages!” He said, and Jonas laughs nervously, not knowing how to talk to him.

“Yeah well… I’m confident in my abilities.” Javier laughs at that.

“Y’know, I’m surprised! Mitch has been with a lot of whores here and there but he’s never liked ‘em as much as he likes you.”

Jonas sputters.

“E-excuse me?” He crosses his arm to close himself off. It’s not like what Javier said about him was true but… Jeez, he’s never been called a whore before.

Javier catches onto his mistake quick. He shoots up his hands in surrender, as if he had done something horrible, “Mierda- I mean- Shit. Sorry. Gotta watch my mouth around you, Mitch will kill me.” He tries to lighten the mood by playfully shoving his shoulder and Jonas shakes his head, giving him the “it’s okay” smile.

“It’s… Fine. But uh… I don’t think Mitch likes me. He barely knows me.”

He really. Really doesn’t know him.

Javier is about to say something before he hears his name being called. It’s Mitch, standing outside a trailer looking murderous. “Get in here!” he shouts and Javier gives him an apologetic grin and rushes over.

He keeps a smile until he lets it fall, a scowl on his face.

Ugh.

Mitch liking him as a person? Don’t make him laugh.

He only sees him as someone to string along. From what he can infer, Mitch has had sex with more prostitutes than he can count, and as far as he cares, this is probably true. And it just so happens, he’s playing the part of an ex prostitute. No doubt that Mitch only sees him as that and thinks he’s lucky for getting “such a catch.” Whatever, it’s not like he’ll get anywhere.

All he has to do is find the files of Sidney’s murder and he’s safe.

The process shouldn’t be hard. All he has to do is stay cooped up in the trailer, sorting and cleaning up files by date. This… would be easier if it wasn’t for Mitch always dropping by to have useless conversations.

For someone who should be out killing people and doing drugs, he sure does spend a lot of his time talking to Jonas.

He likes watching Mitch’s desperate attempts at small talk. Jonas just stands there, filing away and keeping his role while the other trips over his words. It’s funny how a relentless killer could be blinded by the hopeful idea of having sex with someone. Too bad Jonas refuses to catch anything he throws.

He knows that Mitch is flirting.

At first it isn’t as clear but Jonas has to be reminded that he’s not really flirting with him. He’s flirting with the  _ idea  _ of him.

The attempts are hilarious.

“So…. Prostitution, huh?” is one of Mitch’s opening starters.

“What.” Jonas deadpans.

“Uhh was that out of line?”

“Um… Kind of.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

Then there’s a prolonged period of silence until Mitch coughs awkwardly and says, “I’m gonna have a smoke.” This repeats regularly.

Another time Mitch decides to greet Jonas by swaggering on over and sliding his hand around his waist. However, Jonas doesn’t really listen to his surroundings when he gets invested in work so the sudden contact scares the crap out of him so bad that he’s jabbing his elbow in the direction behind him.

It digs directly into Mitch’s stomach and he makes a wheezing sound, falling on Jonas for a moment until they’re both shoving each other off.

They’re both spitting apologies until Mitch scrambles for the door, rubbing his stomach and spitting out excuses for leaving. Jonas stares at the door for five minutes in shock, and trying to decipher if that really just happened.

He gets used to Mitch’s daily visits.

It’s entertaining. He watches him act like a good boy and it makes him wonder if he also acts like this around other prostitutes.

The thought is vaguely uncomfortable.

He’s come to terms that Mitch has been flirting from the moment they met. He hates thinking about that embarrassment but it’s in the past now. They don’t talk about it but the flirting never stops.

One of the more latest ones had to do with Mitch leaning on one of the desks casually and saying, “you look good today.”

Jonas glances down at his outfit, “I wore this yesterday.”

Mitch coughs, slicking back his hair and tries to keep his cool, “I know but, um.. You look good.”

“.. Thank you?”

“Something tells me… They’d look better over here.” Mitch gives him a shit eating grin while pointing on the floor.

Jonas doesn’t compute and stares at the floor as if it has all the answers to the universe. “I would… Look better on the floor?”

“No shit- I meant your clothes- It’s nothing.” Mitch then tries to fix his collar, his hands are fidgety and nervous. Jonas blushes a bit but doesn’t say anything else.

“... Was that out of line?”

“Yeah, kind of.”

“Okay.”

“Alright.”

“I’ll uh… Be going to my room.” Jonas gives him a tight smile before grabbing a stack of papers and leaving hurriedly.

He does relish in the sound of Mitch groaning loudly and the sound of thudding from the trailer. Though, he sighs when he hears something knock over and clank, accompanied by Mitch screaming “Oh shit!” He’ll have to reorganize that tomorrow.

Sometimes he heads back to his house.

He checks to see if there’s any letters from Dean and there aren’t. He only goes back to check on everything and get some clean clothes.

He avoids the station.

It’s not as if he hasn’t gone through a long period time without talking to anyone. He’ll be fine. Part of him wants to know if their team has done anything resound but it’s really unlikely that they have. He also thinks about Sue. He hopes she’s doing alright.

The days go by too fast. The filing never gets easier and if anything, he’s more stressed than ever. Looking out the window helps calm some of his nerves. The sun is gone and the sky is plagued with stars that have lost their wonders over the years.

Wow… An entire month has gone by, huh?

Time really is stupid.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I used to shove people like you in their lockers.”

That’s a new one.

Jonas pauses assorting a tricky batch of files, slowly setting them down and turning his head to face Mitch, who is sitting on the desk. “What.”

Mitch waves a hand, “I mean! I don’t know. You’re nerdish.”

“Oh uh… Sorry?”

“No shit I didn’t- Augh, why is this so hard?!” he shouts at himself, “I meant that- Were you a nerd? In high school?”

Jonas turns his head back to his work, “is that… Any of your business?”

“Well. I am your boss.”

His voice is void of joking and it makes him remember who exactly he’s talking too. Has he finally crossed the line?

“Ah! I didn’t mean to sound rude, it was unexpected, I got caught off guard- I’m sorry-”

Mitch starts laughing at him.

“Jeez, Spots! It was just a joke! Ha, you shoulda seen your face!” He slaps the side of his knee like it’s hilarious and Jonas shakes his head. “You really do have a smart mouth! I never would have guessed!

Jonas tucks a lock of hair behind his ear, self conscious, “It’s a bad habit.”

“That’s alright. It’s cute.”

“Ha,” he snorts and covers his mouth, “that’s a first. Most people certainly don’t think that. They just get angry and then… Push me into a locker.” He laughs with Mitch the second time around.

“Ha! I knew it! You were a nerd.”

“The nerdiest.” It was true. It doesn’t hurt so much thinking about it now since those years are over. He was and is still a nerd that suffered an everyday locker shoving. There’s a part of him that aches to think about it but the wound isn’t as fresh anymore. If anything, it all seems very juvenile and far away.

“Why’d you wanna know?” He asks and Mitch shrugs.

“The suspenders.”

“Haha, very funny.” This has to be their longest conversation that didn’t immediately go south and Jonas finds himself… Enjoying it. Only a little bit. He hasn’t had any useless silly conversations since… Well, since Sidney.

“All you need is a bow tie and I think you’d be the perfect nerd for me,” Mitch gives him the signature look of finger guns and Jonas can’t help but laugh.

“Bow ties are neat!” He says in mock offense and Mitch gives him a smug feline look. He pulls it off surprisingly well.

“Of course you’d think that, nerd.”

“Well I’m sorry that guns and tattoos aren’t my style.”

Mitch looked him up and down, the action way too provocative to be considered normal and the arched eyebrow really sells it, “I don’t know, Joey. I think you’d look seller waving around a tommy gun.” 

Jonas looks away, putting his attention back into filing but the edge of his lips tugging upwards was ceaseless. “I’m not much of a shooter. I’ve never shot a gun before.”

Well, he’s not exactly lying.

He’s shot a gun in police training but never in action. It was pretty laughable.

He carried a gun everywhere because his job required it but he never had the courage to shoot. That or he never came across too many crimes where he had to resort to such methods. Still, being a police officer five years and never shooting was ridiculous in a lot of people's books. Especially Dean’s book.

“I can teach you if ya want,” the suggestion came out of nowhere. Mitch shrugged, a red flush creeping up the back of his neck, “What? A guy can’t offer to teach ya how to strike a bullet through a suckers skull without getting a look?”

“No, no, it’s not that… It surprised me. No one's ever offered to teach me anything.” He mumbles, folding the pieces of papers into their intended folders.

“Well, if you’d like. We can talk about the details over dinner tonight.”

He drops the folder.

The weak smack against the floor has both of them staring. The lifeless folder lays dead in the floor and Jonas can’t help but envy it. They don’t say anything and the mood is steadily plummeting underground.

“So uh, do you? Want to… do that?” Mitch asks, trying to salvage whatever he can of this turnabout. He leans heavily against one of the cabinets to try to stay cool but to his dismay it’s not stable enough for that.

The cabinet is pushed down, Mitch toppling with it and all the files that were in there come tumbling out disastrously all over the floor. This six foot tall idiot sprawls with it before getting up, and then hitting his head on the edge of the desk in the process. Jonas feels his left eye twitch.

Mitch laughs, rubbing the sore spot on his head, “Haha, rammed into the ground just like those two in accounting!”

A sex joke.

Mitch puts his elbow on the table and rests his cheek against his hand, “So… Dinner.”

Is he supposed to respond positively? He has to say yes, correct? There is no other option, it’s not like he can say no or acknowledge that Mitch just ruined a week's worth of work! 

“... Sure. I’d love to.”

“Holy shit, really?” he coughs, “I mean… Yeah. Of course you would.  Haha.”

“Yeah… You may want to check your uh… Head out.” He points to where there’s a red spot forming on Mitch’s forehead and he covers it.

“Oh this thing? Ha, I’ve had worse!”

“I’m sure you have… Ice would not be a bad option though. Or you know… A nap. In your room. And not here.” He suggests weakly and Mitch is nodding along, looking as if he’s been through hell.

“Yeah I’m gonna. Go. I’ll uh, pick you up tonight? At your trailer, I mean?”

“Sure, you do that.”

“Nice!” Mitch smooths down the wrinkles of his suit, bidding him goodbye before stiffly leaving. From outside Jonas can hear the gruff mumble of “fucking nailed it.”

Jesus, what has he gotten himself into?

 

* * *

 

First, one of Mitch’s henchmen hands Jonas a suit halfway through the day.

The gesture is supposed to be nice but whoever the guy was had heavy amounts of piercings and Jonas swears he didn’t have any teeth. Either way, he handed him the suit that costed more than his life and now here he was.

It was a nice suit, maybe a bit tight in certain places but other than that, it was perfect. Too perfect for his liking.

He was a man of hand me down goods and shopping at the cheapest nearby shop. The sudden change not only hit him with pressure, but the dread that came with what Mitch’s expectations he had for him tonight was weighing down immensely. He hoped Mitch wouldn’t want anything from him, especially if what he asked was more on the… Lewd side.

Gross.

Second, Javier was knocking at his trailer door at exactly eight o'clock and that only made everything ten times more daunting.

“What are you doing here?” he asked the moment he opened the door. He realized that sounded rude and apologized briefly before Javier shook his head, lifting a hand politely towards Jonas’s direction.

“I’m here to escort you to your car…” he says in a very poor British accent, “... it was Mitch’s orders, okay.”

_ How cheesy. _ Jonas thinks, but takes Javier’s hand anyways with a brief smile.

True to his word, a gorgeous, if not a little rough looking, chevrolet nova was parked a little outside the base’s vicinity. The honking getting louder and progressively longer the moment the driver saw Jonas making his way through.

The window rolled down and he was dumbfounded to see the same woman from the night before. Her green hair looked gelled and styled, in a way he assumes is supposed to be neat but it seems that is unachieveable since some pieces of her hair were sticking up in several different directions. The wild hairstyle matched the crazed look in her eyes and sharp, toothy grin.

“Scratch!” Javier called out, pushing Jonas closer to the car, “Meet Jonah, our new residential nerd!”

The woman, or Scratch, leaned half her body out of the window, positively beaming, “That’s the new boy toy?! Aww, he’s a cute one!” Jonas fought the urge to flinch away when her arm shot out to poke at his face and neck.

“Don’t scare him off, weirdo! Mitch will kill you and me if he’s not in one piece.”  Javier warned and Scratch blew a raspberry at him, complaining that he was such a downer.

“I won’t kill the guy! Come on get in,  _ Jonah _ ,” she said, dragging out the ‘a’ for longer than necessary. 

“Make sure to hold onto the roof handle, she’s a fucking maniac while driving!” Javier said, the comment more for Scratch as she laughed obnoxiously back at his hard glare.

Jonas inhaled through his nose, awkwardly making his way over the passenger's seat and plopping down. He glanced around, it was a nice car if you ignored the cigarette smell and the bullet holes. 

“Don’t listen to that clown! I’m not gonna kill you!” She fires up the engine, her grin only getting wider to the point where he can see her sharp canines, “Much.” Her hand goes to but the radio on full blast.

“Wait what-”

She slams her foot on the gas pedal, the car immediately taking off and Jonas’s head nearly takes a nose dive to the dashboard. His arms flail to grab the seat belt, yanking it until it’s clicked in and then gripping onto the roof handle as they go faster than the speeding limit.

Way faster.

“Pleased to meet you Jonah!!” Scratch shouts over the music and the wind whirling past them while Jonas screams through it.

_ Note to self: Narcotics members are all a bunch of freaking lunatics! _

 

* * *

 

They drove over a stop sign and Jonas is positive his throat is gonna be raspy after that drive but they didn’t die so that has to count for something.

He has no time to appreciate the view of the valiant standing buildings nor the lavish beauty of the restaurant they stopped in front of because he’s immediately being pushed inside.

He manages to catch the name,  _ Mon Précieux  _ the glowing sign reads and his eyes widen spectacularly. He knows this restaurant. It was specifically constructed on the wealthier side of town for its refined taste and how gorgeous the venue was on the inside. Rumours have painted it to be the classiest five star restaurant in town and you’d have to sell an arm and a leg just to get a reservation.

It is absolutely stunning.

Each rounded table adorned with white tablecloths, silverware, and candles burning bright on their beautifully crafted candleholders. He almost feels unworthy walking on the sleek and wooden floor. The chandeliers decorating across the ceiling are an excellent and even more disconcerting. There is elegant music playing from the backdrop of a water fountain.

Even with an expensive suit he still feels out of place in such an elegant setting.

It has to do with his hair still being untamed as ever and his own sweaty palms, but it’s mostly to do with the fact that the entire restaurant is completely empty.

Well… Almost empty.

“Spots!”

In the center of it all is Mitch lounging on a plush chair with his feet up on the clean, white cloth, smoking a cigarette with the ashes prickling down onto the stainless floor. Jonas could just about cry as he swings his legs off and drops the cigarette, putting it out with the sole of his shoe.

“So what do you think? Hell of a turn out, am I right?” He grins, his arms raised to mock the emptiness. “It’s the most packed I’ve seen it!”

“I don’t understand?” Jonas says, confused. He looks around but it really is empty, the only sign of life is the rustling coming from the kitchen. “This place is always full…”

Mitch shrugs, kicking out a chair and gestures for Jonas to sit. He does as he’s told and Mitch sits across from him, beaming, “A five star restaurant, been to a few but never with quite the guest like you.”

“Oh uh… Thank you?” He eyes the tall wine bottle  but he’s sure every drop is more than twenty dollars. “How much is that?”

Mitch grabs the bottle with ease, “Who cares? Loosen up a little!” he pours the rich red liquid into his glass. Jonas’s frown deepens but he takes the glass, sipping from it and trying not to gag at the sour taste. He’s never been a huge fan of wine. Chardonnay he could tolerate, but this is Château Lafite, hard and powerful going down your throat.

“I’m… I don’t really know what to say? I’m really confused…” he says, his eyes peeking around at all the luxurious details. He sees a waiter, spine straight and head up walking towards their table.

“Why confused?” Mitch responds, not acknowledging the waiter but just sticking out his hand and receives two menus. The man leaves without a word.

“It’s just… This place is always packed! It must have been a lot of money, people spend months before getting a chance to eat here, I don’t understand…” he trails off, staring hard at Mitch’s grin, “did you… Did you rent out the entire restaurant?”

“Ding ding ding, we’ve got a winner!” Mitch laughs unpleasantly, drinking most the wine from his own glass and leaning back.

“Did you really-”

Mitch opens his mouth and let’s out a loud disgusting belch.

“Sorry! Sorry! Keep going,”

“... Right. Did you really rent this whole place out?” 

“Uhh duh?”

“Why?” Jonas feels a headache coming on. The amount of money invested in buying out this place for one night would have been unimaginable! It’s impossible for even an ordinary wealthy person… Well… Mitch never struck him as ordinary.

“I don’t like people watchin’ me eat. And there’s no privacy to do anything! And I don’t know if you know it, Joey, but two guys on a date together ain’t really the scene,” Mitch replies as if it’s the most obvious thing in the- Wait.

“D-date?” He questions, voice going higher.

“Well, yeah… This is a date.” Mitch clears his throat, suddenly his posture going stiff and he pours a nearly full glass of wine. Body language is something Jonas has studied for years, and it’s easy for him to discover when someone is upset simply by the downcast of eyes. He has to play the part of damage control.

“Oh! Yes it’s a… It’s a date… I’m sorry, I haven’t been on a date in years.” Or ever. 

Mitch’s eyes flicker back up, gaining back its life, “Oh shit really? What no ever cared to ask if you wanted a-” he opens the menu to a random page, “... Fil-et mig-non?”

The laugh chokes him and Jonas covers his own mouth to stop the giggles, “It’s not.. It’s filet mignon, not… Not mig-non.” He can’t stop his own jittery laughter, and Mitch joins him, it’s not as unsettling as before.

“Fillet mignon does sound great though…” Jonas admits after his laughter dies down, he can’t will away the smile no matter how hard he tries.

“I’ll get you that, my treat,” Mitch says like it’s not another forty dollars down the drain.

“You really don’t have to, you already paid the whole restaurant! Which I’m still upset about,” he doesn’t sound upset but he’s sure his crossed arms give away the message.

“Aww, how come? It’s all for you. Hey! Waiter!” He shouts, and immediately the same man as before sprints right over. Mitch rattles on his order, only ordering himself some ravioli. Jonas is trying to will away the hot flush on the back of his neck…  _ All for him, huh? _

“You… You really didn’t have to do all this.” Jonas says once the waiter leaves. He feels unworthy to be here, not knowing how many people have come face to face with Mueller and gotten themselves killed. Meanwhile, he’s here having some kind of messed up date with him. That burden feels heavy on his shoulders.

“And why not?” Mitch questions, eyebrows furrowed.

“I just… I’m really not worth it.”

The other squints, “And why not?”

“I don’t…” he shrugs, not finding the words because what can you say that won’t sound completely self deprecating?

An uncomfortable silence starts settling in before Mitch grabs his glass, “Well,” he starts, downing all the wine in one go before slamming it down, “I think you’re pretty damn special. And I wanna treat you right.”

“You… You’ve only known me for a short amount of time, how would you know that?” There’s anger and guilt eating away at him and he doesn’t know  _ why. _ This is exactly what he wanted.

“I’ve only known you for a short amount of time and you’ve already made  _ quite _ the impression,” Mitch grins but Jonas just shakes his head.

“If you knew where I came from… You wouldn’t think that way.” What is he doing? Is he trying to jeopardize his own mission?

“I don’t care about who you used to be,” he says it in such a genuine way where Jonas almost believes him. “It’s what matters now, right?” Jonas doesn’t answer him, he doesn’t think he can, but he must be looking at Mitch in wonder, that he knows.

“... Anyways! I want my dang ravioli, what’s taking so long?!”

“It hasn’t been that long.”

“No man should have to wait for ravioli.”

The tense air hasn’t fully gone away… But it’s better.

Jonas drinks a larger gulp of his wine, but still coughs as it goes down. “Ugh, I’m really not much of a drinker. That burns!”

“Ha! You a Chardonnay type person?” Jonas blinks.

“How did you know?”

“Sweet wine for a sweet boy,” Mitch winks and Jonas rolls his eyes at him. He really is… Something. This doesn’t happen to regular people but here he is.

“You’re awfully… Cheesy.”

“I try my very hardest.” He raises his wine glass, and Jonas gives him the honor of clinking glasses together.

The food comes approximately ten minutes later whilst Mitch is in the middle of kicking Jonas’s legs under the table and he’s doing the same, laughing like children.

 

* * *

 

The food is so exquisite that the moment it hits Jonas’s tongue he almost melts in his seat from sheer amazement.

It’s the best he’s ever had and he can’t believe he’s having this dinner with Mitch Mueller.

He and Sidney would have killed to try to get into this restaurant. They were never high class people but they liked good food, and this place lived up to its name. He tried not to stuff his face in front of Mitch but he couldn’t help making delighted sounds as he chewed.

Mitch didn’t mind as he just watched Jonas eat for most the evening, poking at his own ravioli dish with his fork and not eating. Sometimes Jonas would look over and see some ravioli gone, Mitch probably ate them when he wasn’t looking. In the end he only eats three. He claims he wasn’t that hungry and as long as Jonas is satisfied with his own dish then he’s having a good time.

It’s sappy.

Jonas can’t stop grinning.

Another thing he’s learned, which he has no use in knowing, is that Mitch Mueller, hardcore batshit insane leader of Narcotics, loves making the stupidest jokes that he’s ever heard in his life.

“Okay- okay, okay,” Mitch says, his words slurring from his fourth glass of wine, “What’s the difference between roast beef and pea soup?”

Jonas is already giggling, his glass empty and knocked over on the table, “What?”

“You can split peas but you can’t- Wait shit, I fucked it up, hold on,” Mitch wheezes hunching over, “You can beef stew- it’s roast- roast beef- no- wait-”

They’re both slapping the table, laughing like maniacs and Jonas feels his chest grow impossibly tight and his cheeks are starting to hurt. The ache in his heart is also in pain but he ignores it.

“Thank god you think me fucking up is funny!” He’s so sincere and it burns.

Jonas pours himself a glass of wine, this time filling it to the top. “I’m having a riot.”

“Soooo, Jonah,” he practically purrs and it snaps Jonas back in reality at the different name. Ah, right. He’s not actually… He knows this.

“Yeees, Mitch?” he asks back in the same teasing tone.

“What’s your favorite… Color?”

“Yellow,” he answers without a beat. Easiest question in the book.

“Whaaat? Like… Puke yellow? Spots, you're better than that,” Mitch assures, leaning back and slouching far into his chair, his body sinking into it.

“Nooo, like… A nicer yellow. Not puke yellow, you… Gross…” So Jonas might be a little bit tipsy. That’s alright. He’s still coherent enough to run. Oh god, he hopes he doesn’t have to run any time soon.

“What’s your favorite… Dessert?” Mitch asks, still having half his body slouched into the chair.

Jonas thinks about it, “... That’s too hard. Pass.”

“You can’t pass!”

“Yeah I can! That’s too hard… I dunno, blueberry pie or.. Oh jeez, vanilla cake is good too- no! Too hard!”

“Obviously strudels take the fucking cake…” Mitch says, hiccuping over his words.

“Eh.. They’re alright! Gimme something else!”

“Ahh, shit… You a virgin?”

“Pass.”

“Oh shit! I forgot you were-”

“Pass,” Jonas repeated, crossing his arms and looking down. He should've known that in Mitch’s head, guys like him only thought about sex and trying to get it with prostitutes.  _ Only prostitutes _ seeing as no one would want to sleep with Mitch unless they’re getting paid. He feels more bitter than he should.

“Sorry… Shit. I didn’t mean to make ya remember something bad or-”

Guilt.

“It’s fine.”

“Nah it’s not, I just… Wanted to know what your life was like before you were a pr- I mean… You know.” He looks more sober than before, uncertain.

“I… My life?”

“Yeah, who were you before?”

“I um…” A cop. “How about… I ask you something. You’ve been asking me all night.”

There’s dejection clear on Mitch’s face but he moves on quick. He sits up, bettering his body posture for Jonas, “Shoot.”

“Right uh... “ he looks up, his eyes tracing across the glimmering chandelier and puts his palms on the table to think, “Why’d you take me to this place, anyways? It’s… Classy. Too classy.”

He nearly jolted right out of his seat when he felt Mitch’s large hand taking his, lacing their fingers without a word. He gapes, wanting to pull away but then Mitch traces his thumb across his palm gently and he’s immobile.

“There’s something special about you.”

“I… What?”

“Shit, I don’t know… I saw you and, shit happens.”

“But you don’t even know m-”

“That’s why I want to learn.” It’s firm but not demanding, the grip he has on his hand isn’t tight  but loose. Asking for permission. “Can I?”

Jonas doesn’t say anything, he only offers a slight nod while his head goes into overdrive, wondering how exactly is he gonna pull this off.

“Okay, okay nice,” Mitch squeezes his hand and Jonas wants to shrivel up and die, “so… How ya doing after getting away from the business?”

Crap.

“I’m uh- I’m doing fine… Working in archives is great.” It is also the same way Jonas is going to take him down.

“All the guys are treating you right?”

“Mmhm! No worries here.. Much nicer than before,” he’s pulling this straight out of nowhere and he’s worried that his lies will spiral. They shouldn’t. He was being vague enough.

“Than before, huh…” Mitch lets go of his hand to clench his fists, “Who was your pimp?”

“Ah- come again?”

“Who was he. I want a name.” His tone turns predatory, similar to the one he was using when he beat up Cliff. He’s angry. Specifically, angry at Jonas’s abuser who wasn’t even real, Jesus Christ this is a mess.

“H-he’s not worth your time, you don’t have to find out who he is- it’s fine-”

“That’s not true.”

He’s sweating beneath his collar.

“Please… Don’t worry about it.” He pleads, voice forceful but wavering. The fear of getting caught is getting out of control.

Mitch leans back, arms crossed and his hands are stiff and angry, “Whatever he did to you… Makin’ you do things you weren’t comfortable with, those sorts of things, no one… No one deserves that.”

He’s talking through his teeth, his jaw must be aching and Jonas just wants to go home.

“I don’t… Want to talk about this anymore. Please.”

“... Jona-”

“Please.”

_ Do not ruin my plans, you are terrible, disgusting, a killer, I’m doing this for Sidney because you are the reason she’s dead, I’m doing the right thing here, I’m right- _

“Okay… Sorry”

Maybe he’s the one that’s terrible.

 

* * *

 

Scratch doesn’t drive them back.

Thank God.

Mitch has his own car parked in the alleyway behind the restaurant.

Jonas makes sure to put his seatbelt on tight because Mitch insisted he was sober enough to drive after five glasses of wine and he isn’t risking his chances.

He doesn’t drive as erratically and wild like Scratch, in fact, it’s quite the opposite.

It’s slow and steady. It’s nearing midnight and the streets are mostly clear so they don’t have to worry too much about a collision occurring. Although, the downside to this is that they’re moving at a snail's pace, and the silence hasn’t been broken.

Mitch keeps his hands gripping the steering wheel, eyes angered and Jonas leans his weight against the door, staring up at the sky. The stars peak their way through a flurry of clouds and if he stares hard enough, he can see the crescent moon. He likes watching the scenery change from fancy buildings to tiny houses and eventually nothing as they drive to the trailer park.

There is only trees and a muted radio.

The car comes to a stop once outside the base and that’s another thing that makes this so painfully awkward.

They can’t exactly depart in two different ways when they live only four trailers away. There really is no need to drop him off by the door but… Mitch being the weird sap he is, decides to do just that.

“So... “ Mitch starts, not going anywhere with his statement.

“So..” he says back and they stop to look at each other before breaking down in a small fit of chuckling and giggles.

This is so silly!

He, Jonas Wagner, just had a date with mafia leader Mitch Mueller! He’s tipsy from one and a half glasses of wine and he could have gotten killed so many times before but yet he’s still standing! And his sister is dead! But he’s here, on a date? It’s not even a real date but it sure counts as a first! And Sidney wasn’t here to see it!

She’d probably drag him straight to the afterlife if she found out what he’s doing!

It’s absolutely hilarious.

“Ah jeez, I don’t know whether to kiss you or shake your hand,” Mitch says in between their manic laughter and Jonas’s breath hitches.

He shoots out his arm in an instant, “shake my hand.”

And he does.

Maybe Mitch holds his hand for too long, not letting go right after they shake and they’re only looking at their intertwined fingers before Jonas has to break the illusion and pull away.

“You should take me out more,” Mitch jokes and Jonas is halfway through his door but smiles at him anyways.

“I should.”

He bids him goodnight as he enters the trailer, shutting the door behind him.

All he can hear is his heart pounding in his ears.

He’s not sure if it’s out of fear or something else.

 

* * *

 

There’s a telephone booth three blocks away from his house and he almost never uses it.

Any other day he would just drop by the station, ask to talk to Dean and he’d be taken to him in no time. But the thought of doing that doesn’t settle well in his stomach.

He hasn’t been to the station in over a month now. More importantly, he hasn’t seen Dean.

Which isn’t so out of the ordinary. He took time off of work when his leg got injured two years ago, he was on hiatus for two months and he didn’t see Dean once in that time. He didn’t care to drop a visit because well, Jonas is an adult. Dean was never one for babying and taking care of him, and he had Sidney by his side.

This is more drastic than a leg injury but he’s still surprised when he sees a letter from Dean sitting in his mailbox.

It has last week's date, the letter containing Dean’s concerns and for Jonas to contact Dean as soon as possible.

He chooses the telephone booth over visiting just because he’s not ready to go back to that environment of regular everyday heroes and seeing his coworkers from homicide. It makes him sick.

The station’s number is easy to punch in and he waits with the phone hanging at his ear. There are two rings before someone answers.

“Hello, this is officer Neil Beckham, what is your problem?” a familiar, nasally voice answers and Jonas tries not to sigh heavily.

“Hello… Chief. It’s me Jonas, can you pass me to Dean?” He asks hurriedly and he hears Neil hum slowly.

“Of course, Jonas… You know, I haven’t seen your face in a while.” he sounds chipper as ever and it grates on his nerves. Jonas knows he’s no good guy, may be an excellent cop but he’s also a sucker for putting down people. Well… Putting down Jonas. He hated those  _ completely flatory _ comments about him being an overweight cop who’s only there because _ “your daddy runs this shit show.” _

Jerk.

“I know, I took time off. Listen, I really need to talk to Dean,” he says firmly but all he hears is that dang creepy laughter.

“Yes, yes, whatever. Hello! The single twin is asking for you, commander!” He calls out and Jonas clenches his jaw, instantly furious.

He hears some shuffling around, an affirmative noise before the phone switches over.

“Jonas, what do you want?” Dean answers, as if he hadn’t been the one that sent the letter in the first place.

“I uh.. Got your letter. You wanted to know if I was okay?”

“Ah yes,” Dean sighs like Jonas is stupid, he hates that, “I sent that a week ago, it doesn’t matter now. How are things, though?”

“Things um… They’re… Things are alright,” Jonas laughs weakly but Dean doesn’t say anything. “Um… Yeah. I’m fine. I’m never really home but uh.. I wanted to know if there’s been any… Updates on the case recently?”

“Oh yes, that…” another heavy duty sigh and it gets under his skin this time, “we haven’t made much progress except in forensics.”

Sue’s field.

“R-really? What progress did you make?” he’s curious, thinking rapidly if this information would be of any use to him.

“Hm… I’m guessing you don’t really care what the last thing she ate was,” Dean deadpans and it crumbles everything around Jonas. Was… Was that supposed to be funny? The phone is shaking in his hand from gripping it too hard.

“No. Nevermind, I don’t know why I called. Thanks.” he hangs up. He feels the need to punch the glass until it breaks and leaves his fingers broken.

What a bunch of… Gross men.

Well, it’s not like he can do anything about it. He glances up, eyes scanning the area when paranoia creeps up. He’s been jittery these past few days, rightfully so, he’s hanging around a bunch of criminals.

Whatever, there’s no use dwelling on it.

 

* * *

 

Mitch takes him out more.

Jonas gives him an earful when he tries to rent out another extravagant venue so most of the time they settle for pizza.

He’s surprised that Mitch likes it so much, pizza is a poor man's meal after all, but everyone in the gang eats it up like it’s something glorious. He has to remind himself that even though they’re all probably filthy rich, they aren’t obnoxious snobs that eat classy every night. In fact, he’s sure Scratch would stab one of the rats hiding in the storage and cook that for dinner.

He gets to know the main gang a bit more.

Javier is nice, still very intimidating and could crush him with one hand but he’s the nicest out of all the them. He used to be a part of a smaller gang near East, a bunch of men with clown masks that would go around terrorizing the town. He came to Narcotics when they abandoned him and Mitch found him. They became… Friends? He was one of the first members.

It didn’t come as big as a surprise when he found out Scratch used to be a junkie travelling in her beat up car. She knew the most about drugs, and she fit perfectly into Narcotics when she crashed her car straight into their base. She’s doing better… Well, whatever “better” means. She was also one of the first members.

Then there was Cliff. Jonas knows the least about him because he doesn’t open up easily. He does talk about his days back in the South, and it sounds like he’s in charge of contacting the transporters that bring down the booze into Sellwood. He’s also seen as a punching bag.

They like tagging along on their… “Dates.”

Most of the time it’s just him and Mitch though. Jonas is sure he’s never drank this much in his entire life.

Sometimes they go out to eat, other times they just stay at the trailer park and he watched Mitch trying to light things on fire and then kicking them as far as he can. His shoe once caught on fire and Jonas used his full can of beer to put it out.

He’s working hard in archives.

It’s not like he forgot what his job was. He knows that he’ll have to say goodbye to this weird way of life and he tells himself that he’ll be much happier. After all, he doesn’t trust any of them.

They’re criminals.

Jonas knows how to play his part and it’s not gonna hurt when they’re all behind bars.

They were the reason that Sidney died.

This is cold hearted revenge. All of them will be in a state of shock when their reliable little archives member turns against them. They’ll all look like idiots and Jonas will be honored forever. He wants that victory… He wants Dean to look at him and no longer see some incapable slob that can’t do anything right. He’s going to prove him wrong and most of all, he would be given peace.

He’ll be happy.

Maybe.

He hears the door open while he’s crouching underneath his desk, sorting out files.

“Hey Mitch,” he says without even looking and stands up to look up to see him. He looks exhausted and he stills, putting down the neatly piled papers, “You okay?”

Mitch grins at him, weak and tired, “Yeah, heck yeah, just wanted to see you. God, my moods already better seeing you.”

He ignores how that makes him feel.

“Are you sure? You don’t look so good,” he’s pretending to worry. He’s not actually worried.

“Haven’t slept in two days but that doesn’t matter. Shits going down uptown, I gotta head there to sort it out,” he says like it’s no big deal but Jonas sharply inhales at this.

“Mitch? Two days?! You need to sleep, a-and what exactly is going on? Is someone in trouble,” it’s all pretend. He swears.

“One of our girls got shot during a drug deal, fuckers stole the drugs and ran. I gotta head up there and fuck up the bastards, it might take… A while.” Mitch answers, his hands are shaking and Jonas is compelled to hold them.

“That’s… That’s awful, I’m so sorry Mitch.”

“It’s fine. She was a good one… But ugh, yeah, I have to head up tonight, I’m not sure when I’ll be back,” he runs his hands through his hair, stressed.

“I...  Okay.”

“Sorry we’re not having dinner tomorrow.”

“It’s fine! You need to go, I… Please be alright? I mean, I know you’re uh capable but still, I don’t want anything bad to happen and-”

Mitch chuckles, “I get it. And don’t worry, I’ll be back. In the meantime, I’m sorry if the gang starts hovering over you. Those assholes are going to look after you while I’m gone.”

“Look after me?” Jonas laughs incredulously, “I don’t need a babysitter Mitch. Or… Babysitters.”

“I know, I know, but just between you and me, all of these guys are fucking crazy and if I don’t… Make it a point, then they’re probably gonna make you go dumpster diving or have a gunfight,” Mitch says and, yikes, that does sound bad.

“Hm… Fine. Just… Can you tell Scratch not to eat my hands or something.”

“Pfft, please, she hasn’t done that since twenty eight, you’re fine.”

“Haha- wait. She has-”

“Don’t worry about it!” Mitch ruffles his hair and Jonas makes a noise in protest, “Gonna miss you, make sure you don’t like, drown in all of these papers. I’ll be back in a few days, a week tops!”

A week huh?

“Alright, don’t get in too much trouble up there!”

“Don’t know if I can keep to that word.” There’s a car honking outside and Mitch groans, “That’s my ride. See you, Joey.”

And with that he’s gone.

A week without Mitch… That shouldn’t be too bad.

 

* * *

 

The first night without Mitch is… Odd.

Jonas spends most of his time in the languid space of his trailer and try to make it into a home. The small space is spotless by the end of three hours but he continues until the skin on his palm feel raw and his knees strain from sitting on them for so long. There’s some squealing and laughter from outside but he has no courage to join the commotion.

Working in archives is as dreary as ever, but this time, time stretches and slows like molasses dripping down a canvas. All the fonts are too tiny and the passages grow incoherent as his brain turns to mush.

He forgot his reading glasses at home.

They aren’t that important. He could live without them but still, the abysmal hours of grueling reading does a toll on your eyes. They feel uncomfortably dry and his fingers are twitchy.

He misses speaking to someone.

The others are only steps away but he doesn’t feel like striking up a conversation. He’s so used to someone coming to him by now that it’s out of the ordinary if he’s the one trying. And it’s not like he wants to talk to them in the first place. He’s using them all for potential information, not entertainment.

He passes a glance at the window and is surprised to see how darkness has encompassed the sky. He hadn’t realized so much time has passed, and with so little progress made.

Tomorrow is a new day.

He steps out of the trailer, feeling more defeated than he should, when he hears a bunch of hoots and hollering coming from a few trailers down. A lot of the members have huddled over some kind of fire while throwing beer cans at each other.

Trying not to to gain any attention, Jonas slings his bag over his shoulder and starts hurrying his way over to his own secluded area… That’s the plan anyways.

He makes it halfway before he hears someone screech “JONAH” across the land and he goes frozen.

“It’s the cute nerd!! Bring him over! Bring him over!” Scratch screams, jumping up and down, latching onto Javier’s neck who just stands there, used to it.

“Hey lil man! Wanna join this!” Javier says, lifting up a beer bottle as an invitation.

Jonas shakes his head quickly, “Um! Sorry, no! Long day at work!”

There’s a loud annoyed groan swept over the crowd of unfamiliar faces, and Jonas just smiles weakly, turning to continue walking.

“Told you the gay kid can’t shoot for shit,” he hears the fake southern drawl call out. Ah Cliff, always a menace. “Don’t know why Mitch keeps him around, we ain’t running a whore ring!”

“Hey man, cool it,” Javier snaps but Jonas isn’t sticking around to hear anymore of this.

He slams the door shut behind him, throwing his bag on the floor and sighing deeply. Tomorrow is a new day… It’s always a new day.

 

* * *

 

A headache explodes behind his eyelids that has him hunched over stapled packets about a syringe problem in 1928.

He cannot believe how messy and ridiculous this gang is. His job would have been so much easier if they had the decency to understand how to file things. It’s not like it’s rocket science!

The morning started off with a bang, literally, some members were shooting targets outside and the noise woke Jonas up so fast he almost fell right out of bed. He’s not an early riser but he can’t go back to sleep when people are shooting right near his trailer.

Mitch’s vacancy is only becoming more prominent and it’s doing things to him. Not speaking to him for over a day is weird as it is, he’s always hanging off Jonas and asking him questions. To be fair, he does the same but that’s besides the point. It’s… Still loud. But something is missing. A gang without a leader is a very tragic thing.

The day drags on and his headache gets stronger.

Stupid Narcotics. Stupid members and their stupid leader who can’t do anything right. So disorganized and out of order, what’s the point of even having an archive if all they do is screw it up?!

“Jonah?”

“What?!” He shouts by accident, eyes angry and whipping around to see the perpetrator interrupting his angered thoughts.

His face falls when he realizes it’s just Javier, stunned that Jonas yelled without a warning.

“Oh, god, Javier. Sorry, I didn’t know it was you-”

“No, no! It’s all good, nerd.” He grins, not looking too mad but Jonas still keeps his guard up. “You look fuckin’ pissed, if any of the guys are messing with you Mitch gave me permission to pummel them.”

“Um… Okay? But no one’s messing with me, it’s just been a long day at work is all,” he waves his hand over the mess of papers to show that he isn’t lying and Javier just laughs at him.

“You’re breaking your back doing nothing, lil bro. If you want you can come out to sit by the fire the gangs making,” Javier says.

“Um… Fire? Like… Campfire?”

“Sure, if you count setting Cliff’s shit on fire in a barrel a campfire. Hey! We’ll bring marshmallows and everything!” Javier’s laugh is boisterous, not quite like Mitch’s which makes Jonas frown a bit.

“Ah.. I see um… Maybe some other time? I’m really tired, And shouldn’t campfires only happen at night?” he inquires and Javier looks at him weird. “What?”

“Dude, it’s like nine o'clock.”

“What?!”

Holy crap he’s not lying.

“I was wonderin’ why you were staying all cooped up in here all day! We thought you died or something!” Javier jokes and Jonas only nods mutely. Jesus, he’s been so wrapped up in working that he just let the day escape him.

“I had no idea…”

“It’s fine! Join the fire, we won’t mess with you too much. We may be a bunch of assholes but we know what’s off limits,” Javier tries to reassure him but he isn’t sure what to do. Hanging out with these guys without Mitch? It doesn’t sound like a good idea…

“I don’t know… Cliff and a lot of them don’t seem to like me.”

“Cliff doesn’t like anybody! He’ll warm up to you, just compliment his accent,” he pats his head and Jonas flinches for only a second but allows it to happen. It’s not as weird when you’re expecting it.

He mulls it over.

If… He hangs out with them, maybe they have something to say. They aren’t the brightest, but they are dangerous, but Jonas is really good at talking his way out of things so… This is an opportunity.

“I… Okay. I’ll go… I don’t really know what to do, though.”

“Just cheer when Cliff’s shit starts blazing.”

“... Alrighty then.”

Javier claps his back really hard, almost launching Jonas to the floor before he opens the door, “Hey guys! Joey’s with us!”

A holler of cheers are heard while he’s dragged out.

 

* * *

 

“FUCK IT UP!”

So Javier wasn’t kidding when they said they were going to burn Cliff’s stuff.

Cliff is actually sprawled over on the dirt floor after drinking his sixth can of beer, he’s not sure if the puddle he’s in was already there or if he had… An accident. Or, if someone else had an accident on Cliff...

Jonas sips tentatively on his beer while everyone watches the last couch cusion be set ablaze. He doesn’t see how this is fun but everyone’s very entertained.

He’s doing a good job nonchalantly staying far away from everyone else. Javier left him to go with Scratch, who is pouring beer on the fire and making it spread faster. The cushion is turning black and curling in on itself. A part of him wants to take it out before the entire base lights on fire but… It’s not as if they hadn’t done this before… He thinks.

“JOEY!” Scratch screeches and suddenly his left arm is being assaulted by the weight of her hanging of it, “Whatcha doing all lonely back here?!”

“Um I don’t- I uh-”

“Scratch be careful, that’s Mitch’s boy.” Javier warns but Jonas just gapes at him.  _ Mitch’s boy? _

“Aww come on!” She whines and continues to lean herself against his side, her hands are crazy cold when they grab his cheeks, “Mitch never has one around for this long!! And such a pretty one too!”

“P-pretty?” he stutters, and she drops her hands so he could talk properly, “I’m not- what are you talking about?”

She pokes his cheek, “pretty.”

“I’m not-”

Another poke, “Pretty! Javier, isn’t this one just adorable!”

Javier gives her a half glare, one trying to be angry but mostly amused by her antics. “Mitch will kill us if you scare him off.”

“I-it’s not like I’m gonna run away or anything!” He tries to speak up, “And I’m not… Pretty or anything, and why would Mitch kill you? That’s just… That’s kinda extreme don’t you think?”

Scratch claps loudly, “You’re so CUTE!”

Javier shakes his head, “It’s nothing, bro. Mitch is a very extreme guy, he likes protecting things he cares about.”

Cares about? That’s implying that… Mitch has actual feelings for him. That don’t involve just liking him for sex. That’s a laugh. He can’t help but snort, feeling empty inside when they both turn to him with questioning faces.

“Sorry I just…” his shoulders shake a bit with laughter, “Mitch caring about me? I don’t think he does…”

They give each other a look, blinking owlishly before Scratch is throwing herself at him, “WHAT?!” She yells and he screams as they topple right on over. “Of course Mitch cares about you! Gee, he practically-”

“Scratch!” Javier hisses, pulling the girl up with only one hand, “Be cool!”

“Hehehe, sorry, forgot!”

“Jesus.. Are you okay, Jonah?”

Jonas shakes himself off, patting down his clothes from excess dirt, “I’m fine....”

Javier gives him a long hard look that has him shrinking a bit before he looks over at Scratch. “Why don’t you go and get Cliff’s shitty record player and set it on fire. Don’t electrocute yourself!”

“Oooh! But I love it, it makes my hair all puffy!”

“Don’t kill yourself then.”

“No promises!” Scratch gives a giggle that resembles a hyena’s laugh before she’s scattering away on all fours.

There’s a moment where they don’t say anything. The only sound is the fire roaring on in the barrel while Cliff lays half dead nearby, it’s almost calming until Javier breaks the building silence.

“Listen… I’ve known Mitch for a long time. If you’re gonna let him down, let him down easy before he’s gotten himself into a mess of shit,” he pauses, sighing, “But knowing him… He’s already way too deep.”

Jonas is looking up at him like he’s exposing some kind of huge secret… In this world, there really are people that care about Mitch Mueller. He tries not to get angry, this is just business, and frankly, it’s not in his position to say anything against it. He’s undercover.

“I… I’m trying to get it. But I’m lost,” he says truthfully. He hasn’t done that in a while.

“... Don’t fuck him up anymore than he already is.” Javier heaves another huge sigh but then his lips stretch into a grin and he puts his hand on his shoulder, “You’re a good kid! And really fun to mess with! Welcome to Narcotics!”

He stands up and goes to pick up Cliff, slinging him over his shoulder, “Good night! Here’s to hoping our Mitchell darling comes back tomorrow!”

Jonas watches him leave, and then stares into the dying fire. Everything must have turned to dust by now.

The headache comes back and, this time, spreads all the way to an ache in his chest.

 

* * *

 

Mitch doesn’t come back the next day and the ache festers persistently.

On work hours, where he should be sorting and searching, he sits instead. He surrounds himself in countless of different files and reads them like they’re books.

Two years ago, the main four went out to brutally murder and castrate a wealthy businessman in the east. It happened after the week where his wife and daughter lost court case. They had accused him of rape and abuse, but the man is powerful and managed to win the trial. Mitch assimilated a team to negotiate a time and place where the man could buy their drugs. They then murdered him in an alleyway, leaving a grotesque scene for the police.

One year ago, Mitch gathered up a group and broke into a highly secured facility to break out dozens of abused dogs that were tied up in cages. The leaders of the facility were keeping the dogs as experiments and forcing them to fight each other, furthermore, they were starving and killing the weaker ones. They saved most of all the dogs, the ones they couldn’t, they mourned and kept a section of the trailer park dedicated to them.

Three years ago, they all attempted to build a crappy swingset in trailerpark and it was a failure. He found the file of all these plans to make a playground with tires and car parts, it didn’t do so well so they gave up.

Two months ago, Mitch saved six dobermans from another animal abuse rink and now keeps him as his own. He has assistants that walk them.

None of this information is useful to him.

He doesn’t need to know all of these past stories but he tortures himself by soaking it all up. How undeniably human Mitch is. It’s downright terrifying and it makes the blood in his veins grow sick with knowledge. He should give up and go home, escape while he can and never look up.

Maybe he can head up farther north… To Oregon or something. Never show his face in Sellwood ever again and become another missing person case. That is, if Dean bothers to look for him.

Rapid knocking brings him back to life but then it slams open and he almost dies again.

“JONAH!” Scratch shouts in greeting, dragging Cliff beside her who looks angry with a deep frown and holding a crate of some sort.

“Oh uh, hi you two… Is there something you needed?” he asks politely and Scratch smile turns manic.

“We’re planning a trip today!” She says, clearly excited and vibrating in her spot. “You should come with us!

“It was just gonna be me, crazy, and Javier but y’know…”

Jonas ignores Cliff’s little quip, “A trip? Where? I thought we weren’t supposed to leave the base until Mitch comes back.”

“Goody two shoes,” Cliff mumbles but Scratch elbows him quiet.

“It’s gonna be fun!! We do it all the time, we never get caught, oh! Oh! You can even get your own mask!” She squeals.

“Caught? Why would we be getting-”

“Christ!” Cliff spits, “We’re fuckin’ around with the cops, do it all the time! What, you too scared?”

The cops?

Well, of course.

Narcotics is very notorious for being both sneaky and stupid.

They’re huge showoffs that would pay the police station a lot of visits by slashing the tires from cop cars or chucking sharp rocks through windows.

The masks where another thing. Never ever seen without them on, it’s meant to hide their identities and make them look terrifying. He’s only seen them in photographs before and even those sent chills down his spine.

“I’m not… Scared. Don’t you think it’s a little dangerous, what if we get caught?” He’s nervous, he doesn’t want to be potentially seen. If they catch him not only will Jonas be in huge trouble but his dedicated research of finding answers would be tarnished. “Have you ever done this without Mitch?”

“Of course we have!” Cliff shouts while Scratch makes an “ehhh” sound.

“I don’t wanna get caught, it’s too risky-”

“You don’t trust us? Is that it?”

“No that’s not it, I’m sure you three are very capable but without Mitch-”

“What you some kind of cop?” Jonas freezes up at that, staring at him with wide eyes.

“N… No, what? Where did- where did that come from?” He’s stuttering. He always stutters when the tables turn on him.

“I don’t know about Mitch, but I don’t go around trustin’ every whore I meet. We beat it, we leave it, that’s how it’s done in the South.”

“W… What does the South have to do with anyt-”

“Because we ain’t picking up random whores for nothin’! You wanna be in Narcotics, prove it! Be part of the team,” Cliff says and Scratch is holding him back by the hem of his shirt. She’s looking back and forth from the two of them with a wild and worried expression.

“I…”

“See! Told you he’d pussy out!”

“Aw, leave him alone, hick! Let’s go before Javi comes looking for us!” She tugs on his sleeve, right about to drag him away. Jonas can let them go, he can just watch from his trailer as they go out… Potentially get themselves killed. It’s not like it’ll be his fault…

“Wait.”

They stop.

“... I wanna join.”

Scratch inhales sharply and lets out a piercing screech, launching herself at him and dragging him forward, “Jonah’s coming! Jonah’s coming!” she cheers, Cliff doesn’t look that annoyed anymore.

“Hope you can prove you ain’t weak as chicken shit.”

“I’m not.”

He isn’t.

 

* * *

 

They three of them make their way to a large shiny car parked up front.

Javier steps out of the driver’s seat, mischief all over his face until he sees Jonas tagging along with them.

He lifts a hand to stop them, “Woah, woah, hold on, he’s coming with us?”

“Yes!! It’s gonna be so fun, Javi!! And see, there’s still four of us!!” Scratch says, nodding quickly and Jonas nods along with her.

“... I don’t know.”

“Oh come on Javi!”

Jonas watches them bicker for a moment, Cliff joining in and all of them becoming a trio of adults yelling at one another. Scratch looks like she’s about to throttle Javier with her bare hands and rip his throat out until Jonas shyly lifts up his hand to get their attention.

“Um I… I think it would be fun to go. I know I’m not used to this life yet but I want to,” he says and Scratch gives Javier a smug look, like she had won the argument.

“Bro… I know you’re interested but this isn’t archives or a date with Mitch,” Jonas flushes a bit at that, “And if you end up hurt, Mitch is going to kill every single one of us.”

That line is getting on his nerves. Why would Mitch hurt friends he’s known for years over a fake prostitute he just met. That itself is ridiculous, and maybe, just maybe, Jonas is interested. He’s spent his life behind the scenes and never experiencing a ruthless chase in the middle of battle. He only came during the aftermath of crimes.

Dean kept him sheltered. He looked down at him with a condescending look and said he was never good enough. Well here he is now, with some of the most dangerous criminals and he gets to see how they work in action.

“With all due respect, I have evaded a lot of… Crap in my life. I’m still alive today for a reason, I think I can handle this,” he calmly states. Scratch whistles at him and he can’t see the look in Cliff’s eyes but the small goofy grin has to count for something. Javier continues to look down at him with a hard stare before breaking and smiling big.

“Mitch made a good choice with you,” he opens up the car doors, “Get in! I got masks stored in, I think we got two extra ones, you can choose which one you want, Joey!”

They all pile in, loading the crate in the back while Cliff and Scratch fight for shotgun before the girl realizes that she can be in the back with Jonas and clambers her way over. Javier starts and he’s relieved that he is somewhat responsible, definitely not as speedy and wild like Scratch.

Jonas has to fight the undying urge to put on his seatbelt and just let himself relax while the base fades away and they start driving towards town.

They all chat, well, the three of them do while Jonas tries to follow along. A lot of, “did you bring the stuff?” and “make sure not to miss” comments are made. It makes the situation all too real, he wonders if this is a dishonor against the police industry. It can’t be… It’s not like he’s actively participating, besides, he’s dissecting their methods and how they work. It’s all part of the plan… He thinks.

He’s been thinking a lot lately.

“Get the masks out,” Javier commands and Cliff kicks the glove department open, pulling out the items. He automatically reaches for his, tying it around his mouth.

Javier not so surprisingly puts on the one that resembles a killer clown, it suits him. Scratch snatches her own and with all their masks in place, they truly do look like the terrifying killers they were born to be.

Jonas grabs the two that are left.

“One of them is Mitch’s, I think you can guess which one,” Javier says, voice now muffled behind the mask.

He smooths his hands over the surface of a long repulsive looking mask, he vaguely wonders if the faded red streaks were for decoration or dried up blood over the years. This was Mitch’s legendary mask, it screams trouble and destruction just like the man himself. It’s much too long for Jonas to wear comfortably, he guesses it was meant to suit Mitch’s face shape.

There’s another one, much more cleaner than Mitch’s and less scary.

It wasn’t discernable like the others, and held no personality. Most likely because no one has ever used it.

He swallows thickly before adjusting it onto his face, making sure he can see and breathe probably while wearing it. Scratch gave him the thumbs up and assured him that his face was covered.

This was insane.

They continued to whiz by the houses and buildings of a town that Jonas could call home. Something about being in the place where you grew up in, about to commit some heinous crimes with a group of dangerous people is not very… Easy to stomach. He hides his discomfort while the three passengers all chatter and take out their shiny looking weapons.

Cliff tosses him a knife that he’s fumbling to catch.

“You better use that!”

“Oh come on Cliff, Jonah, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Javier is always quick to defend him.

“He’s one of us now, you gotta fuck some shit up,” Cliff snaps back and Scratch nods in agreement.

“It won’t be that hard... “ Jonas mumbles, not sure if he’s talking to them or himself, “I’ve done… Things before.”

They’re all quick to go back to talking and Javier giving him the “okay.”

“So um… What’s the exact plan?” he asks and the mood shifts into a very… Intense and scary glee.

“You saw that crate Cliff brought in?” Jonas nods. “Well, shits full of jars of blood, we’re fucking chucking them at their windows.”

“B-blood?”

“Haha, yeah!” Scratch cackles like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

“Whose blood… Is it?”

“Oh cool it, nerd, it’s just some fucker we killed a week ago.” Cliff says and Jonas feels himself go cold.

“What did he do?” he whispers. A week isn’t long… Surely he should have heard the commotion, then again he’s always cooped up in archives. And last week there was a day where Mitch didn’t do much talking to him, claiming he was taking care of something… Oh god.

“He was being a huge asshole. The guy liked talking shit about Mitch’s mom, we were gonna do something about it but then-”

“He pissed on Buddy’s grave!” Scratch shouts, cutting Javier’s explanation off.

“Mitch was so fucking pissed, he didn’t even blink when he grabbed the guy while he was still pissing and shot him right here,” Javier points to the area between his eyebrows and Jonas feels the need to rub at his own.

“He even shot the guys dick off,” Cliff adds, sort of unnecessarily. 

“That’s… Wow,” he slowly says, “Who was… Who was he?”

“Just some dumbass.”

“No I mean… Who was Buddy?” The three all glance at one another.

“Mitch’s pet from when he was little,” Javier starts, “He’s had that thing forever, and if there was one thing that could make him feel better, it was Buddy. Two years ago, little guy died of old age… May he rest in peace.”

Scratch nods and Cliff even bows his head in respect. Muttering something about how animals should be respected.

Jonas blinks dumbly. A pet? Mitch shot a guy in the head because he peed on his pet’s grave… Well, sure that isn’t a cool thing to do but was it really worth a death sentence? Sounds a little extreme...

“That’s terrible... “ is all he can muster.

He should really stop learning so much about Mitch. It’s not useful to him, it doesn’t help him gain any answers or help him in his investigation. There’s no use to getting attached to stories or little factoids about the most dangerous man in California.

He wishes he can turn off his hearing when the gang decides to talk about Buddy and wild stories that they’ve had over the years.

He doesn’t want to think how it’s kind of amazing that Mitch had this animal that he loved so much that he’s willing to kill for it. It’s not cute, nor is it adorable, it’s just weird… So why does he feel so… Charmed? No, that’s not the word. Enthralled? Either way, this isn’t good and he needs to stop while he can.

The station building captures his sight and, if possible, his stomach sinks further.

“Here we are my bros,” Javier proudly states, slowing down the car and stopping about thirty feet away. “Scratch, Cliff, get the jars out and your weapons.”

This is crazy. By far the most stupidest thing that he signed up for.

“We’re all going to unleash hell once we get everything settled. You two, go to town on those cars up there, and make sure to smash their windows in. Cliff’s, you got your pipe so if Scratch can’t break the glass with fists then help her.” Javier shoots off, pointing to where they’ll go. “I’ll be towards the back, smashing the back windows by myself, it’ll be easy. After we all finish smashing the shit in, we leave, if cops run out you fucking pop their heads right off, okay? Good, and Jonah, you come in the beginning.”

“W-what?” He stutters. A part of him was hoping he was going to be forgotten in all of this.

“You’re gonna tell us when to go. Don’t wanna have cops already outside, y’know?” Javier says and Jonas starts nodding before Cliff slams his hand down.

“Now wait just a minute, he ain’t doing anything else?”

“No, Cliff. This is his first rodeo, we’re not gonna-”

“Where’s the fun in that? He’s gotta do some crazy shit, we’re not just gonna do all the damn work!” Cliff is outraged, “You’ve got that knife right? Slash their freakin’ tires, throw yourself a jar!” He pushes a jar near him and Jonas gags at the sight of the red liquid full to the brim in the clear glass.

“What, you’re too pansy for this?”

“Cliff, lay off-”

“I’ll do it,” he says, his voice tight with apprehension, “I’m not a… Pansy. Just, give me gloves.”

Scratch fishes out a pair of black gloves and hands it to him, he pulls them on quickly. Javier looks at him, hesitant, “Bro, you don’t have to do this.”

“I know… I want to, though. I’m part of Narcotics, after all.” He gives him a weak grin before grabbing the jar, even with a glove on he can tell it’s warm. “I… I’ll go out there. I’ll slash some tires and then… To tell you when it’s clear, I’ll smash this.”

There’s a pregnant pause before they’re all nodding.

“So I just… Go?”

“Yeah, whenever you’re ready.”

“Okay…” he sighs, he jiggles the jar a bit in his hand and almost screams when he sees a white looking object float against the glass. “Is there an eye in here?!”

“Oh dude!” Scratch looks at the jar, and there it is. A bright pristine looking eye soaked in the blood. “That’s fucking rad!”

“You got the lucky jar!” Javier jokes while Cliff laughs hysterically.

“Do something with it when you’re out there,” Cliff encourages and Jonas just squirms, looking away from the jar to the knife.

“What, you want me to throw out the eye?!”

“Why not!”

This is fucking psychotic.

There’s a few more laughs and Jonas takes a few minutes to calm down. He’s really doing this. If he does this… Then their trust would get stronger, right? This is all part of the plan, he repeats in his head.

“Okay… I’m ready.” All of them nod. Jonas puts the knife in his pocket and grabs the handle to the car door before pausing, “And uh… Make sure to come from the right… The right side has some pretty high windows but there isn’t much patrol, just keep away from the front.”

He clears his throat and hops right on out.

The cold night air hits him and the warmth from the jar is all he has. There’s nothing more intimidating then slowly stalking over to your workplace, about to completely terrorize the people inside.

No one is outside at this time but he can see the soft glow of light coming from the inside of the station. The night shift workers all on call duty… Maybe Dean is there too. The thought makes him more nervous.

He makes sure to crouch over cars and to make his footsteps quiet. He doesn’t know what he’s doing but he does know how to be stealthy. Police training made him good at this, although, his skills were supposed to be meant for protecting citizens and not… Turning against them. It was fine, this was fine… He’ll be the best fake Narcotics member out there.

He slid the knife out, breathing hard and lowering his body to the cold cement floor.

Sliding the metal blade against the tire was strange, piercing it and tearing it open was a satisfying feeling. He made sure it didn’t make too much of a noise by putting down pressure while the air streamed out.

He could hear the steady footsteps of Scratch and Cliff from a few feet away. This was going to work.

He continued his method of slashing tires, and pushed away the guilt from his mind. There was no time to wallow.

Time stopped when he read over a familiar license plate.

Dean’s car.

The paint looked renewed, the proud logo of their station stared right at him and the tires looked ready to be popped. The commander’s car... 

An idea struck him.

This was… Wrong. But...  He put down the knife, unscrewing the lid of the jar.

It could make a statement.

Narcotics did that… They liked symbolic things like this. So it was only natural that Jonas adapted to that too.

They eyeball was hard to fish out.

It was more slippery than he thought, and it kept falling right through his fingers. He managed to get a hold of it, the blood dripping down and making a mess all over the side of the car. This was morbid… He was holding a freaking eye.

Then again, he’s seen mangled bodies up close and sometimes, Dean would take him to the morgue to see the trauma victims.

He placed the eye right at the bottom of the windshield with a soft squish.

It wasn’t symbolic enough. Narcotics were brutal, they thought this stuff was funny. He had to play it up even more.

He dipped his gloved fingers into the liquid and, shakily, he wrote messy letters against the glass.

_ Watching You _

His heart pounded in his chest.

Turning his head, he looked through some of the windows and scanned the area. No one around… This is a better time than any. He screwed the lid back on and lifted the jar over his head, right when he saw a figure move through the window and his eyes behind his mask found another pair of eyes.

Dean.

He smashed the jar as hard as he could and ran.

There was immediate commotion.

Scratch and Cliff went nuts, jumping on cars and smashing the jars through the windows. Jonas didn’t stay long enough to see them start wrecking cars and screaming at the top of their lungs when Javier joined them in for the fun.

The sounds of bullets rang through the air and glass shattering in the night would be ingrained in his mind, all accompanied by cheerful yelling, as if it were a party. Maybe this was their idea of a party. How sick.

He ran back to the car, peeling off soaked gloves and tossing them in a bush before climbed back in. He was panting from exhaustion and the adrenaline coursing through his veins was overpowering his senses. No way was this real.

He sat up, taking off his mask when he saw three figures running like bats out of hell in the rearview mirror. How long has it been? Was it really that fast?

Scratch yanked open the driver’s seat and scrambled for the keys to start the ignition. Javier almost squashed Jonas when he flung himself in and Cliff didn’t bother to open the door, he just jumped straight through the window.

“DRIVE, DRIVE, DRIVE,” Javier practically roared and Scratch hit the gas pedal, the car taking off and all of them jerked forward, Cliff hitting his face against the dashboard while Javier and Jonas toppled over each other.

They got themselves situated, Jonas grabbed the seat belt and pulled it straight on. He wasn’t dying after tonight!

“Holy fuck!” Cliff cheered and all of them broke into crazy laughter.

“W-what happened out there?!” Jonas yelled and Scratch screamed “fun” in delight.

“We went batshit with their cars and the blood smashed in, it was perfect! I don’t even see them chasing us, you really did slash their tires?!” Javier yelled back at the same volume.

“Of course I did!”

Cliff looked over at Jonas, pushing away his mask to reveal his huge grin, “You really are one of us!”

“THAT WAS SO AWESOME JONAH!”

Jonas didn’t know what he was feeling. “I did my best!”

“Haha, oh man, Javi, look at his eyes!” Cliff pointed and Jonas made a confused look.

“What about my eyes?” Javier looked at him and started laughing, making him even more confused. “What? What’s wrong with them?”

Javier pulled him over to look at the car mirror, “They’re dilated as hell! You look like you just took five pounds of ecstasy.”

In the mirror, Jonas stared back at himself, but it didn’t look like… Him.

His hair was wild, sticking up in all different angles, his pupils were huge, he almost couldn’t see the color in his irises but… Most striking of all…

He couldn’t fight off the grin on his face.

“We have to tell Mitch all about this!”

“Oh hell no, he’s so going to kill us!”

“Aw come on, he has to know what a badass his little nerd is!”

“JONAH IS AWESOME!” Scratch repeats again, head thrown back as she drove recklessly.

“We all know he is! And he’s our new member! We have to take him out again, would you like that, lil bro?”

So, this really was his life ending after all.

“Sign me up.”

He feels the need to cry.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> You can send me your comments on here or tell me what you thought on mitjo.tumblr.com !!
> 
> ALSO!! CHECK OUT MARS' REALLY RAD ART THAT SHE DID OF THE GARBAGE GANG, MAFIA INSPIRED!  
> http://smokeplanet.tumblr.com/post/157006590069/smokeplanet-mafia-au-busts-some-canon


	3. Act 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologize for the exceptionally long wait!! I had a lot to deal with, including writers block and something else I'd rather not get into detail. But I'm back and I'm really hoping y'all stuck around for this one!
> 
> As always, all the characters and Long Exposure belong to Mars (Smokeplanet on Tumblr)
> 
> Please support and read Long Exposure on Tumblr or Taptastic, Mars is a really great person WHO IS ALSO MY BETA FOR THIS FIC! Huge thanks to her and all of you guys sticking around to see updates!

The handgun felt heavy in his hand.

Mitch stared ahead, his gaze uncaringly sharp and his finger was manically fiddling with the trigger. He should have gone home yesterday but plans were altered when America’s favorite bastard stepped straight into his business.

It wasn’t serious as it was bothersome. There was no real threat, they tried to keep the violence civil, but the tight lipped taunts were still as biting as ever. They hadn’t had a face off since the year 1928, and he’d like to keep it  that way.. On any other accounts now and nicely embedded in this fuckers brain.

But this was different.

Maybe it was how their relationship had “matured” or maybe it was because there were too many people counting on them.

Either way, no one could deny the tension every time they meet again.

There is something so undeniably rich about having a rival you so desperately want to eviscerate, but due to common grounds and agreements, you can’t. That doesn’t mean Mitch won’t keep his gun raised, almost teasing the man who dared him to do it.

“Ever get tired of doing drugs?” He asked, a sly grin appeared on his face while keeping his eyes intensely locked on his target. His rival.

“Ever get tired of selling them?” The rat looking man asked back. A woman was draped to his side, she was lavished in pearls and furs. She was glaring right at Mitch, but with an easy going smile. She wasn’t much of a threat to Mitch but he’d rather she weren’t there. She was rather unnecessary, and he can’t bring himself to point the gun at her.

“Touché, Rockefeller,” he chuckled at his own joke. “Hey... Throw over the bags. Make sure not to touch ‘em, fuckers might have the plague.”

His hooligans all laughed while his rival just smiled much too calm for his liking.

One of his girls that was built like a truck grabbed two large duffel bags filled with a fuckton of cocaine. It made a slight dent in their drug department but in return with a handsome amount of money, it wasn’t a bad trade.

She chucked the bags right on over and their helpers had to lift them and pack it into their obnoxiously shiny sleek cars.

“There,” Mitch lowered his gun but didn’t raise his finger away from the trigger, “You better fuckin’ leave us alone when we do deals in the city. It isn’t you fuckin’ territory.”

Before the rat can say anything, his dangerous looking broad decides to speak up for him, “As if you can take us, anyways.”

Mitch heaved a grand sigh, not this again, “well, based on your lesser known business, I think we can take you any day.”

“Don’t talk to her like that,” the man in power finally speaks. His voice is as nasty as ever.

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?”

“You _know_ what I’d do about it.”

He laughs hysterically, rubbing it further in the other’s face to show just how little he’s scared of him. “Yeah, yeah… Whatever. Why don’t you take your shit and leave? Because I’ll make it so you dumb fucks never get a drop of this shit ever again.”

The atmosphere goes from tense to undeniably deadly. The man looks at him, eyes flashing in pure utter disgust and it makes Mitch feel an abundance of joy. Some things never change. But then it shifts to something he can’t explain. A hard but practiced expression, as if he’s been awaiting this.

“What are you playing at, Mueller?” He asks, hands reaching into his waist pocket.

“I’m not playing shit, you and your fucked up games can go jerk off together. Just get on your high horses and leave us alone,” he lifts the gun and his members around him do the same by taking position.

His rival doesn’t make a move, only keeps his hand at his waist, “Who are you… Possessing?”

“Po- what now?” He sneers but the man just looks more curious.

“... Interesting.”

“What the fuck does that mean?!” He clocks his gun.

“Nothing…” He takes a gun out but he doesn’t point it. Instead he slides it over to him, “Here. You may want that for your… Possession.”

His eyes flicker down to the gun. It doesn’t look like anything fancy or like it could pack any explosives. He keeps the gun on his rival but crouches down to snatch the gun from the dirt, “What is this hunk of junk?”

“I want you to have it.”

“Why?”

“It’s good for training,” his smile is sickening. He turns to his girlfriend that is still clinging to his side, confused like everyone. “We’ll go now… And thank you, Mueller. Thank you for… Everything.” He mutters the last bit but doesn’t say anything else, instead, he steps into his car, along with all his other helpers and with that, it’s over.

He looks over the gun, not seeing anything striking or fascinating about it. He weighs it in his head, and shrugs. It can be good for something… He squints at it, turning the handle and  looking into the barrel.

Ah, a colt police positive.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Archives are organized after two months.

Jonas feels every bone start to ache and strain under the stress that’s been injected so suddenly and without warning.

He wants to squeeze something until it breaks and explodes all over his hand. This is not what was supposed to happen, this plan may have been rusty and not so well crafted but it ultimately lead to the only one solution.

That “only solution” is crumbling all around him and turning into a mocking dust.

It sits at his desk.

There’s broken glass scattering the surface and the floor from when he shattered multiple wine bottles that were gifts from Mitch. Mitch Mueller. Mitch freaking Mueller, he was the one that did this. He had to, every sign was pointing to him, the sleazy grin, the criminal record, and the blood that stains his waist coat.

But it’s not him.

The file reads October 15th.

He reads it. Scans it. Memorizes every single word and etches it into his skin He tries to wake him from this nightmare because there is no possible way that the Mitch Mueller was out of town when his twin sister was murdered in cold blood.

It must be a fluke.

Dated 1930.

It’s not a fluke.

His opened doors are now being slammed and locked shot right in front of his face. This is what he worked for, this fake identity, and getting a painful reminder that he was getting to know murderers as if they were actually people was for nothing? Every sleepless night full of theories and notes was going down the drain, and he’s slipping with it.

No.

There had to be something else.

Or else he’s going to be severely and utterly fucked for a lifetime.

Confirmation of Mitch’s absence, not even in state during the week of Sidney’s murder, he was off doing a three person drug deal over sixty miles away in a city called Luminville. That’s it…

Only three other people were there in assistance.

That still left the forty or so other members in Narcotics. There could have been some previous order from Mitch, or maybe some went behind Mitch’s back to commit the act. No, there had to be a reason… Either Mitch ordered them to kill Sidney or someone in this group had a kick out of killing cops. But they wouldn’t have known she was one unless they were studying her or something!

Another thudding headache drums against the side of his head and he’s left groaning, fingers rubbing at his temples.

Why… If it wasn’t Mitch then who was it?

Scratch? No… She was rabid and crazed, that’s for sure, but she’s usually teamed with the rest of the gang. She’s not very… Technical and thinks too much about plans rather than just doing her orders.

Cliff? Even that can’t be plausible. Sure, he’s a bit shady and a jerk but is he really that smart to plan something behind Mitch’s back and committing a crime without following orders? That doesn’t seem like him…

Javier? No. That can’t be it.

Then who? He’s not associated with anyone else too closely, he should try to infiltrate them more, get some information, but who? Where? When?!

“Jonah!”

He instantly covers his arms over the file out on the table and shoots up to look at the intruder.

It’s Javier. He’s laughing at him.

“Oh jeez, you should have seen your face! Sorry about that, buddy!” He grins wide and Jonas tries to collect himself. He gives a small smile, as if he isn’t completely dying on the inside.

“Thanks for the heart attack, Javier.”

“How many times do I have to say, you can call me Javi!”

Jonas gives a half hearted laugh, folding the file and putting it in the drawer, “I’m still getting used to, why are you here?”

“Oh that, boss is asking for ya!” He says it with such glee and if Jonas wasn’t surprised then he would have questioned it- Wait, boss- Mitch!

“Mitch is back?!” He accidentally shouts, overcome with an intense rush of emotions he can’t explain.

“Yea he’s back-”

“W-when did he get back? Is he in his office? He asked for me? I gotta see him!” He jams the rest of the files away.

Javier pats his hand down on his head, “Woah there speedster! A bit eager aren’t you?”

He flushes a bit, “No I just- It’s been four days!”

“It’s okay to be excited, go, go!” Javier shooed him off and Jonas tried not to run away but he couldn’t deny the sprint he had in his steps when he shot out of the trailer.

He’s not excited.

When a constant from your life suddenly alters then it ruins a lot of his perception of everything… That’s all. He’d rather have that constant there rather than feeling there’s an empty void not being completed.

That’s all.

He’s panting by the time he’s made it to the new trailer. It’s much nicer, and the floors are even carpeted, and at this polish, red wood office desk that looked a bit rough on the sides was the man himself and some unnamed henchman standing intimidatingly by his side.

Mitch, who looks just as roughed up with a bruise covering the side of his right cheek and a beat up lower lip, lit up like a star.

His eyes alight and way too happy to see him, “Joey! There you are!”

It drops, gaze hard and bored when he turns to his henchman, “Get out.” The man leaves without a word.

Jonas steps to the side to allow him his leave and closes the door behind him. “Welcome back!” Mitch smiles but it stretches the cut on his lower lip and more blood spews out. It has them both wincing.

“Jesus! What happened to you?” He squints, looking closer at the spiderweb of harsh bruise lines on his cheek and nearly recoils at how painful it looks.

Mitch laughs, unabashed and unbothered and leans back into his cushiony office chair, “Don’t get your shit in a twist, it was just a fistfight I got in with one of these goons. Punched me straight in the mouth but I got him back real good.”

“What? Really?!” Someone dared to pick a fight with the Mitch Mueller?

“Fuck no!” he snorts and the illusion is broken, “I got myself shitfaced and then fell out of the car ride on my face. Got my lip all fucked up.

“... Of course.”

He rolls his eyes, sighing in relief… Or something. He’s not that relieved… It’s not like he actually cares about Mitch’s health.

But the blood is dripping down his chin and it’s hitting what looks to be a very expensive desk…

“Are you gonna clean it? It looks really bad,” he suggests and cringes when Mitch just wipes the blood from his chin with the back of his hand, only smearing it further across his face. Gross.

“We ain’t got no medic,” Mitch shrugs.

That simple gesture has anger surging through him. He frowns but he doesn’t know why he’s so upset about it. It looks painful… The cut has to be infected by now and it’s only gonna get worse from here. Why doesn’t he have any tact or sense to think about these sort of things.

What were they thinking, someone gets a wound or a gash and they just leave it like that? That’ll be a laugh! A cut on the arm as someone’s downfall just because they didn’t think to carry some disinfectant.

His hands itch for a clipboard he doesn’t have to write down a reminder to get medical equipment.

He stares angrily at the blood on the desk when he spots an empty glass besides it. Oh… Oh! That’ll do. Work with what you have as they say. “Do you have any vodka or whiskey or something with a high alcohol concentration?”

“A what or what now?”

“You know, like alcohol. The thing you drink, but hard liquor please,” he says and Mitch only quirks an eyebrow at him.

“Why? You finally want a drink with me?” Mitch says in that sly way he does but Jonas didn’t come here to play games. He bristles but that’s the only reaction Mueller is getting out of him today.

“No. You need to clean that out, the straighter the alcohol the faster it’ll disinfect… Duh,” he clears his throat at Mitch’s dumbfounded expression, “Well? Where is it?”

“Oh! Uhh…” Mitch drones before pointing awkwardly at the cabinet, “It’s uh… In there. Straight vodka, high shelf.”

Jonas holds back an agonized groan when he sees how high the shelf actually is. Swallowing some of his humiliation he grabs an unattended stool to step on.

He tries to ignore how he can feel eyes raking his frame from behind.

From there, he opens the glass case and yanks out a tall bottle of high class vodka. He hops down, grabbing some tissues from the box and opens the cap off. Well, he tries to open it and then fails so he has to make Mitch open it for him which is embarrassing enough. Once that’s done, he pours a hefty amount into the tissues.

“Okay ah,” he walks over behind the desk, “This might sting.”

Mitch’s grin is much more laxed staring up at him, “Y’know, that vodkas probably the only straight thing in this room.”

Jesus Christ.

He stuffed the vodka soaked tissues straight against the pulsing wound without warning and Mitch jerks his body, screaming “Fuck!”

“Hold still!” He tells him, grabbing Mitch by the shoulder and pressing the vodka deeper into the cut.

So, maybe this was a bad idea.

It shouldn’t feel as compromising as it is. He may be holding Mitch Mueller down by his shoulder, standing over him and only a split second away from sitting on him, but he’s only cleaning a cut.

He really hopes no one comes in right about now.

Mitch is hissing while he cleans his blood covered chin, and pressing the tissue against the source. Jonas wrinkles his nose at the smell of copper, alcohol, and Mitch, who probably hasn’t showered in the last four days.

After a few more awkward moments, Jonas pulls back, “There, it should be better.”

“Thanks, dweeb.” Mitch sounds much too fond. Jonas makes his way to the trash, throwing out the tissues and putting the vodka back in its cabinet.

“No problem,” he mumbles, heading to the doorway but then Mitch’s hand shoots out to grab his arm, startling the hell out of him.

“Hey now, don’t you wanna stay for a couple of drinks or something?” he asks, gritty as ever.

“Um, no, that’s fine. It’s only like, five o’clock,” Jonas replies, shaking off the hand grabbing him. Mitch’s face falls as he tries to regain back his previous confidence.

“Shit I mean- uh… That’s fine. Yeah.” He sits back down in his chair.

It feels like an unended conversation. He sighs, going back to the door when he’s stopped again.

“How uh… How was it while I was gone?”

_Not only did I go against the law, I placed a human eye on my dad’s windshield out of stupidity._

“Nothing too crazy happened,” another lie but they’ve been piling up since day one.

“That’s good, I know my assholes are fuckin’ nuts but if they ever do anything you don’t like, tell me.”

“What, so you can kill them?”

“I mean,” Mitch shrugs, a playful smile on his face which Jonas rolls his eyes at it.

“So… It’s been some good months, how ya liking your job? Feel permanent?” Mitch’s nervous hands shoot out for a cigarette, not looking into his eyes.

 _Oh_ , Jonas thinks, _he wants me to stay._

“I… Yeah, I’m here to stay. It’s a lot better than my old job that’s for sure,” he says, the words falling out way too easily. It feels wrong and slimy. But worst of all, it feels way too truthful.

“Good shit,” Mitch coughs, something clearly on his mind. The cigarette is fidgeting between his fingers and after a few seconds he slams it down, groaning back into his seat, “Listen, Joey, I… I got a gift for ya.”

“Huh?” He wasn’t expecting that. “What? What do you mean?”

“I think you might like it, I keep up to my promises and shit,” he grabs something from his suit pocket, dragging it out and sliding it on his desk. “Pretty neat, huh?”

Jonas stares at it for approximately three seconds before his mouth falls open.

This can’t be happening.

His stomach drops at the sight of his gun, the same one he lost two months ago in that dingy bar. There is no way. His eyes flicker to Mitch’s, in absolute fear and panic. After all this time, he figured it out?

He has to run. No! He has to explain himself, he has to.

“M-Mitch- I don’t-”

“Gun training! I’m gonna teach you how to shoot with this little thing,” Mitch picks up the gun and reaches out his hand.

Jonas stares at it, slowly taking it, “I… Oh. Where did you- where did you find this?”

“Uhh, I beat the shit out of some nerd in the parking lot when he tried to cause some trouble. Snatched that baby right off him,” Mitch says while Jonas examines the gun. It has the police logo and everything.

It could be another colt.

But the police logo makes it all too clear. Why would a Sellwood police department embroidered gun be miles away from here.

“No kidding,” he huffs, Mitch looks at him expectantly and he stares back, “What?”

“So… Gun training? Wanna start… Doing that?”

“Oh uh,” he knows how to use a gun already. But… He supposes, being in such a close proximity of Mitch would be easier to expose him. He’s gotta be honest, he is clinging onto the last bits of hope that Mitch had something to do with his Sidney’s murders. Or at least, someone in the gang had to.

“Yeah… Where can we shoot?”

“Eager much? Ha, that’s alright. I like it, I think you’d look… Great with a gun,” Mitch’s voice is slipping back into sleazy, “You can pull off shooting a guy in the head.”

Jonas scoffs, “Interesting fantasy.”

“I’ve got plenty of those in stock if you ever wanna see ‘em.”

_This guy._

“I’m good.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

He’s conflicted.

At this point, there is no escape from Narcotics.

If this was a mistake then everything he’s done for Sidney will all have been, literally, for nothing. He would have let her down once and for all. He’s spent weeks upon weeks of not crying and letting himself wallow in a despair because he believed the perpetrators were right before him.

And if it’s proven that they weren’t guilty… Jonas isn’t sure what he would do.

Well…

He could still go down as the man who found Narcotics’ dangerous corrupt leader who has killed people with his bare hands… There were other lives besides Sidney taken by them.

All he has to do is get more information, run to the police station once everything is sorted out, and then tell them the coordinates of the base so they count detain all of them. That’ll be the easiest part.

His stomach hurts at the thought.

“Come on Joey! Shoot it like you mean it!” Mitch yells at him from across the field.

He wonders how Mitch would react if he knew he was teaching an already trained cop how to shoot a gun.

Although, he’s acting like a complete amateur with how hard his hands are shaking.

“It’s hard!” He shouts back, trying to steady the gun to point at the high pyramid stack of beer cans. He’s meant to shoot the one right on the top and so far, he’s missed three times, and the fourth time he knocked the bottom one out and had to build the stack back up again. It’s not as easy as it looks.

Mitch had demonstrated it pretty easily, but to his surprise, he’s actually kind of a lousy shot. He’s very reckless and shoots five times at a time with the luck that one of the bullets will make the shot. The tactless style suits him.

“Your arms are too straight!” Mitch calls out for the umpteeth time and Jonas is starting to get used to his own body not cooperating with him.

“I’m nervous,” he confessed meekly.

He watches Mitch start to saunter on over, taking off his suit jacket in the process. Probably because, even at the start of December, the sun was unrelenting and temperatures stayed normal.

What Jonas wasn’t expecting however, was for Mitch to proceed to unbutton his shirt and remove his tie.

“W-what are you doing?!”

"Uh.. What does it look like?" He stretched his arms back, cracking his joints with a loud pop sound. It made Joey grimace but he still couldn't take his eyes off him.

"N-no I mean.." Jonas took a deep breath, and looked back up at Mitch's face. "Why are you doing this? Right now I mean, w-while we're here. Now. Doing this." He chewed his lip, now much more nervous than he was earlier.

"You said you never fired a gun? Don't question my process." He showed off all his teeth in that signature smirk. "Honestly though, Spots? It’s easier without fabric getting in the way. Why? You not happy with the view?"  
  
"Yes- N-No- I uh...I just mean-" He was going to make his lip bleed- and the laugh that followed, which really didn't help the rising heat in his cheeks.

What was wrong with him? He was looking at Mitch- Mitch Mueller! He wasn’t completely shirtless, thank goodness, but the tank top is doing nothing but exposing his very bare, strong arms- His arms!

Why was this even such a big deal to him? He had seen Mitch's- His well.. Everything! Oh God he could feel the heat rising even more.

“Are you- are you gonna tell me how to shoot or…?” He doesn’t dare try to finish the sentence and he’s glad that Mitch only grins and twirls a gun in his hand.

He could hear Mitch talking about the right way to shoot and how to aim, but he has trouble focusing on the actual words despite his best efforts. His attention was elsewhere, looking at the way Mitch moved and the intense stare he gave the beer bottle he was aiming at. He looked completely in his element. It was really attractive in a way. No- No he had to focus on Mitch's words and not on how he was starting to think the way he stretched was sort of kinda nice.

Very nice.

“You got it?” Mitch asked and it jerked Jonas out of it.

“I- Yeah- Totally… Yeah,” Jonas took the gun back, his hands had managed to get shakier than before.

He points the gun, trying to fixate his gaze at the stack of beer bottles that’s calling his name. His focus is not on Mitch, who is staring at him. He doesn’t have to look to feel Mitch’s intense eyes, he’s fascinated how they practically take apart every inch of Jonas.

"You look fucking nervous, Spots," Jonas jumped a little, losing whatever concentration he had managed to gather. Not like it was much in the first place."Don't worry that much! Not like the bottles are gonna shoot back."

Mitch laughed obnoxiously which made him roll his eyes. He tried to calm down when unexpectedly, the same bare arms as before decided to wrap themselves around his shoulders-

“What are you-”

“Shh,” Mitch shushes him and the low sound of it makes Jonas clamp his mouth shut.

One of his hands come to his forearm, helping him keep steady, while the other slides over his wrist, making his hands stop shaking so much. “You’re doing great.”

The praise is unexpected.

If it wasn’t for their incredibly short distance, Mitch’s chest practically pressed against his back, then Jonas would have let out a shudder. He can barely keep his eyes on the target when all he could think about is how low Mitch’s voice sounded.

“You’ve stopped shaking,” has he?

His fingers feel brave on the trigger.

“Shoot.”

It’s a command.

He shoots and the recoil back surprises him for a moment but Mitch makes sure to keep him steady.

There’s a distant shatter and his eyesight clears up to see the bottle pieces hit the floor.

“Holy fuck Spots! You did it!” Mitch cheers, letting go of him and moving back to smack him proudly on the back.

So he did.

“Soon enough you’ll be blowing skulls off left and right!”

Jonas laughs, nervously, “I don’t know about that.”

His heart is shaking in his chest and his ears are ringing a bit. Although, he’s not so sure if the gun is the culprit.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He should stay away from Mitch.

But like a moth to a flame, it’s nearly impossible.

Mitch tends to hover over him, not so controlling as it is… Someone trying to look after him. He’s not sure if that’s better or worse in this scenario.

The gun training is one thing.

Being invited to his private office for drinks and having outings every other weekend is another.

Earlier this morning he could hear the murmurs scattered amongst the group. All of which discuss “Mitch’s new whore that he likes to tail around.” It’s utterly demeaning to his person, especially if it turns out that… Mitch really isn’t his sister’s murderer.

“You look sick as a fuckin’ dog, Jo,” Mitch comments. Jonas gives him a very unhelpful smile and a shrug.

“Sorry. It’s getting uh… Colder don’t you think?” It’s December, however unlike other cities, being in California means you can hardly tell the difference in temperature.

“Eh, no snow though.” Mitch takes a swig of a large bottle of vodka that he’s helping himself to, “And it better stay that way. Snow’s the enemy.”

“Ha, what do you have against snow?” He inquired, swirling his own untouched drink in his hand.

“People fuckin’ freeze to death, New York is screwed up in the winter and have you heard about uh… The, sovas?”

“Soviet?”

“Yeah, that! It’s crazy, I’m not ready to die a white death,” Mitch said, taking another swig.

“I mean, no matter what, you’re always gonna die a white death,” Jonas sassed and he smiled at the bark of laughs that came out of his boss.

“Shit you’re right!”

There’s a few more peals of laughter before it settles back to a weirdly placed silence.

It always get like this. Mitch starts tapping his fingers impatiently against his desk while Jonas pretends to sip his drink until the subject moves on. This time, Mitch looks a little too fidgety, like he’s mulling a topic over in his head.

“Is uh… Is there something on your mind?” He asks carefully. Mitch looks a little surprised but grins easily.

“Fuck, you sure are observant.”

“Yeah I was uh,” _trained to do so,_ “I taught myself to…Observe- anyways, uh, something… On your mind?” Nailed it.

“Well shit, there’s no hiding anything from you, huh,” Mitch sighs deeply, taking another drink before leaning back into his chair, “Fuck it, so… I’m gonna be heading out to the city for business in a few days.”

“Oh! Um, again, didn’t you just go on one… Well, I understand you’re a busy guy and I’m sorry I shouldn’t have questioned-”

“It’s fine!” Mitch cuts his rambling quickly, “It’s uh, stupid drug dealing, anyways… I’m probably gonna be sitting on my ass for most of it, I just gotta make sure none of my boneheads fuck up anything. And I was wondering… If you wanna come, or, y’know, whatever.”

He stares, not sure what to say.

Sure, they’ve been together on their… Outings, but going to a whole other city? Not only that, but they’ll be there for a case?

“You want me to go with you?” he asks, not believing it himself, “How come?”

Mitch coughs, and Jonas’s eyes flicker to how nervous his hands are twitching yet his face is as intense as ever, “Well uh… You’re part of the gang. If we move, so do you… And can a guy get to know more about his rookie or?”

That makes him break out into a smile. How… Unpredictable.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’d like to go.”

“Oh shit really!” Mitch lights up like a Christmas tree, it’s weirdly charming. “Nice! It’s gonna be insane with you there!”

“I hope that’s a good thing,” he adds and they laugh for a moment before he realizes he has no idea which city they’re going to. “Which city was it again?”

“Ha, get this, it’s that top notch night show of a place. Luminville, ya heard of it?”

He stopped breathing for a moment.

Luminville, the city Mitch went to when Sidney died. Did this mean something? It had to… Did Mitch know something?

He couldn’t have, that means this is purely coincidental...  And if he went with him, Jonas can find out what exactly he was doing on the date Sidney went missing. To see if he’s hiding anything. Now, there could be a possibility this was a trap.

But Mitch’s earnest eyes and the hint of nervous energy detects that this is real.

“That’s… Great, I’ve never been there.” He says slowly.

“It’s nice up there, be glad we aren’t heading to Defity, that place is a fuckin’ shit show,” Mitch pours more vodka into his still half full drink but he must be swaying on the edge of drunk by now. “Toast to us!”

“Yeah, cheers,” he clinks his overflowing glass against the bottle.

He watches in awe as Mitch tips his head back to chug the strong liquor, “Dude, you’re gonna get messed up later!”

Mitch pauses to look at him and scoff, “Oh please, Joey. I’m not gonna get shitfaced over a little vodka!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

He got shitfaced.

Once the bottle was finished Mitch started singing show tunes and Jonas thought it was an appropriate time to call Javier so he could take care of him.

Javier being the support beam they all needed came forth and swung Mitch over his shoulder, who was surprisingly compliant when drunk, and told him it was time to go to bed. After that whole ordeal, Jonas decided to head back to his room.

The idea of being in a new city with Mitch was… Well, he wasn’t sure.

It would be interesting. He never really got out of Sellwood unless it was job related. He hasn’t taken a nice trip anywhere in years.

He should probably tell Dean he would be out of town for a few days...  He’ll do it tomorrow.

First things first, he has to pack enough stuff for the ride and how much exactly should he pack. Is he going to be doing work? Should his files be hidden? Is he really going to go to a whole new city without Dean’s permission first? He’s an adult, he shouldn’t need to ask him anyways but… Dean was once his boss.

However, that title… May go to Mitch now.

Which is strange.

Jonas sprawls over his springy bed, arms laid out flat. He’s really doing this. For Sidney… It’s always been for her.

He hasn’t thought of her.

That’s untrue, he has been thinking only of her this entire mission but… He hasn’t thought about the old days.

When they were young that is.

They had their own language.

Most twins do. It was a silly game that spiraled into their own language that drove Dean and Sue nuts. After they were scolded several times by Dean they stopped using it around them but the language lived on in secrecy.

They had this code whenever they were sad or hurt but didn’t want to admit it.

“The sun disappeared.”

Whenever it was said that meant there had to be an emergency “make my twin feel better” ceremony between the two of them. It consisted of smothering each other with their favorite things and building a pillow fort.

It worked every time.

“The sun disappeared,” he said out loud.

He wasn’t tackled full force by his sister who would smoosh his cheeks and tell him “what’s up, Jojo?” Neither was he wrapped in thick comforters and had his favorite snacks thrown down in front of him. There wasn’t even someone to annoy him and jump on his bed, demanding that he get up so he could go outside and have a walk.

He was still in this nightmare, living in a trailer park with criminals because in the end the sun really did disappear and is six feet underground.

There’s a constricting in his chest.

She told him that he was going to be a great detective one day. She said it was because he was so clever with “the shit he did.” His breathing is becoming erratic and suddenly the rim around his eyes are burning.

“Stop,” he says.

She would be so worried for him.

He sits up quickly.

His chest is heaving and he scrambles to get up, heading for his door and opening it hastily. The night air hits him and it fills his lungs greedily.

The tears start to blink away and he does his best to not collapse on the ground. He’s not going to curl up into a ball and start sobbing where anyone could see. He tries to look up at the star filled sky but that only fills him with dread at the thought of the universe being so huge and he’s so small.

All he could do was sit by the door and rub his face. Deep breaths, those always help. Shouldn't they? No- not right now they weren't. Jonas bit his lip, looking back up and making sure no one was watching him, he didn't want anyone coming up to him after all... Especially not Mitch.

He looked over to his trailer- only to see the lights on? At this hour? Didn't he need to sleep? Although Jonas didn't have much room to talk right now.. A large crash rang from inside that him jolting.

What the heck was going on in there?

He gets up, the cold air making him shiver but he tries not to think about that. He creeps up to the bigger trailer, the voices getting more audible with each step.

“.... wrong with you? You never get this shitfaced for anyone on a work night!” Jonas squints, trying to identify the voice as he gets closer.

There’s another bang, “What the fuck are you talking about, I’d get shitfaced with anyone on any night!” Those were the slurred words of a very drunk Mitch. Christ, had he seriously not gone to bed.

“You may think that, but as your friend and right hand man, that’s not something you do before a deal. You get shitfaced alone.” It’s Javier. He sounds serious.

There’s silence and then a heavy sigh, “Seriously, what’s so special about this guy?”

Jonas feels a pang in his chest because the way “this guy” was said was very… Odd. What’s going on?

He hears Mitch make an offended noise, “The fuck are you talkin’ about?”

“Why do you like him?”

“Pfft! I don’t like… I don’t like him,” Mitch slurs unconvincingly.

“Bullshit. So what, you love him?”

Jonas waits in anticipation before he hears something else clatter, maybe a chair being thrown to the floor, and then more banging, “Shut the fuck up Javier!”

“I’m just saying! Everyone can tell from the moment you brought him in!”

“Are you fuckin’ telling me my cover's been blown?”

“HA, what cover?”

“Shut the FUCK up! Get outta here you clown, I’ll take my ass down to bed or whatever.” Mitch yells and Jonas hears a bit more noise before footsteps start getting close to the entrance.

He panics for a moment, rushing to hide himself behind the trailer while Javier walks out and closes the door behind him.

Jonas thinks it’s time to run back when he hears a low groan coming from the trailer.

“The fuck am I doing…” Mitch sounds distressed and it makes Jonas frown. “Shitty… Shitty stupid… Feelings… Ugh.”

He inhales sharply, looking to see if the coast is clear before rushing back to his own trailer.

What the heck was that all about?

Love. What love?

He leans back against the door once it’s locked and tries to find something to keep him grounded. Unfortunately there is no pillow fort waiting for him and the word “love” screams in his head.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Love can’t be defined by words, but that’ll never stop people from trying.

They say love is all around you and that may be true but the love in which you saw growing up is what really defines you.

Dean and Sue were a versatile yet strangely dismal pair.

He should really talk to Sue. She was a mom to him, and although sometimes she drove him a little up the wall she meant well most of the time. Always so trying and a bit off in nature but whenever he came home she was there to greet him at the door with a smile.

And Dean was a father, but never a dad. The cold distance and the skittering around the edges were tense. His frown was always impressive and his eyes were judgemental. They knew just how to tear Jonas to pieces.

He loved Sidney.

If anyone showed him what love was it was her.

Although, romantic love is a whole different ball park that he’s scared to venture in.

Crushes were safe, consistent, and, with time, will disappear in the back of his head. That’s the way it’s always been. He’s still embarrassed to say that he’s never had a real relationship.

“Love will hit you before you know it,” they say.

He doesn’t believe it. There should be a gradual incline to these kinds of things. Love doesn’t come out of nowhere. And if it did, it surely didn’t look like a bunch of busted up cars all parked out and filled with drugs that they were gonna sell to other criminals.

“We gotta go!” He heard someone call out and Jonas looked down at his bag, packed and ready to go.

Mitch stood near a nicer looking car, having a smoke while he was waving some of his guys off. He looked… Nice. He’s sure that his tailored suit, that hugged parts of his body, cost more than his rent and it should be illegal for Mitch to look so serious like that. It made his stomach feel funny.

He headed on over with no confidence, dragging his bag with him, “Why do we gotta go so early?”

Mitch’s seriousness went away, and his eyes flooded with something warm and, that wasn’t fair. How could that be fair.

“Yeah, it’s a long ass drive and we gotta get there by night,” He blows out a puff of smoke, dropping the rest of the cigarette to the ground, “It’ll be a fun little road trip, just me and you.”

“Wh- just me and you?” He asks, eyeing the other members that are loading up in their own cars.

Being stuck with Mitch in a car for hours on end with nothing to do but to talk to each other…

That doesn’t sound like a good idea.

He doesn’t get a chance to say a word or ask for someone to tag along before Mitch is opening the car door and throwing their bags in like they weighed nothing. Jonas keeps forgetting about his strength- now's not that time.

“God my head's still spinning,” Mitch says, going into the driver’s seat.

“Well you shouldn’t have had so much to drink,” Jonas is about to climb into the back but Mitch stops him, insisting that he should go for shotgun.

He sighs with resigned protest and takes the seat. Begrudgingly.

He is not about this life.

They sit for a while like that, Mitch yelling out things to everyone else going on the trip which is really only about seven people at max. Jonas is glad that the usual gang is tagging along, but that doesn’t make this situation any less daunting.

The cars start up eventually and they take off, engines roaring in the crack of dawn.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I’ve been to Luminville a few times, nice ass city and fuck, if you look closely, you can see the rats roaming in the streets at night!”

That sentence shouldn’t contain that amount of excitement as it did coming out of Mitch’s mouth. He’s a pretty quiet driver, but he does love suddenly speeding up and scaring the holy crap out of Jonas.

“I don’t really like rats,” he says, trying to focus on the view of trees whirling past.

“Eh, the rats don’t like us back. But I’m telling ya Joey, the city’s something magical. It’s the cocaine that doesn’t hurt your nose!” Mitch exclaims and it’s such an unlikely comparison that it makes Jonas give a half hearted laugh.

“I’ve never really been to a city,” he confesses.

“What? No shit?” Mitch’s grin gets wider and his exposes his teeth, “I’m gonna make this trip the night of your life, or nights. Days. Best fuckin’ week ever!”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“You can hold anything against me, Joey.”

“A gun.”

Mitch laughs manically, “That can be pretty hot.”

“ _Gross_ ,” Jonas shakes his head in disgust. Yet the smile never goes away.

Mitch is pretty much the dictionary definition of sleazy scumbag.

He takes another look at him, tapping at the steering wheel and grinning on ahead like a child driving to the toy store. Okay, maybe “scumbag” is too mean of a word. It’s not as if Mitch is… He’s just not… The best person.

He’s definitely no prince charming that’s for sure. But there’s one thing that he can’t deny. Mitch is pretty damn funny when he needs to be.

“You like ice skating?”

“W-what?”

“Ice skating,” Mitch repeats, “Y’know, going out on the ice with your knife shoes and… Skatin’ around.”

“Yeah I know the sport- Knife shoes? You mean ice skates?”

“Same thing.”

“Right uh…” Jonas once went to a nearby rink when he was a kid but he can barely remember it. All he knows is that he fell repeatedly and he cried so much that only ice cream could get him to stop. “... I like ice skating.”

Mitch glances at him, tender and warm and so painfully unlike him that Jonas wants to tell him to stop, “That’s great. I’d love to see you bust your ass on the ice.”

“Hey! I can skate!” He lies, “You’re gonna tell me you know how to skate, hotshot?”

“Eh, it doesn’t look too hard,” Mitch shoots back and Jonas feels the urge to take him to a rink. He wants to skate together but more importantly, he wants to see Mitch fall. “That’s one mean look you’re givin’ me. You tryna kill me, Joey?”

“Maybe,” he drawls out the vowels and shrieks when Mitch reaches his hand over to muss up his hair.

“You’re gonna have a blast in the city. We can go out to some bars and get shitfaced,” it’s a sweet offer. Well, as sweet as it can be but it makes Jonas wrinkle his nose at the thought.

“I’m not a very… Party person,” he sighs, “Sorry, I’m very boring.”

“Nah, no! Don’t say that, we can like… Build a pillow fort and you can live in it for the next few days.”

Jonas chokes, his heart panging hard.

“What did- What did you just say?” he stutters over his words, staring wide eyed at the man next to him.

“Wha? What did I say? Pillow fort? That’s a thing, right?”’ Mitch questions, sounding so naive because he has no clue how his words affect him.

“.... Sorry I… Pillow fort. Yes… That sounds nice.” Very nice.

“Shit, Spots. You scared me for a moment, for a second I thought you were gonna tell me that it’s actually cushion castle or something dumb like that,” Mitch cackles while Jonas is still reeling.

“Cushion castle sounds fun too…”

“Eh, forts are cooler.”

“... But a castle.”

“A fort, Joey.”

“Yeah but… A castle.”

They ramble back and forth, the conversation sweeping them away before they even know it. It’s easy, like two guns shooting back and forth with no time in between the bullets. His bones are tense, and his heart needs to be jumpstarted but this… This is kind of fun. It’s the most thrilling thing he’s ever done.

He loses count how many times he tells Mitch to keep his eyes on the road because he keeps turning to look at him.

It’s so undoubtedly human it almost makes him sick.

Murderers shouldn’t smile like that. They shouldn’t drum against their steering while because they have too much energy.

They shouldn’t take others out on extravagant dinners or help you learn how to shoot a gun while putting their arms around you. They absolutely shouldn’t look at another human being with so much softness that it’ll make people forget that they have blood staining their hands.

Jonas shouldn’t be allowed to do this but he’s here anyways.

Mitch tells him about the time he shot off fireworks from his hand and got first degree burns. Upside was that the firework was being shot at Cliff and he ran for his life but still got hit with some of the debris.

There was another time where he woke up after a night of getting wasted only to discover he was now the owner of five new dogs and had stored a goldfish in his pocket. The most amazing part of the story had to be how the goldfish survived inside Mitch’s pocket. Sadly, the goldfish was later eaten by Scratch.

Jonas didn’t have exciting stories to tell so he mostly listened. He observed how Mitch liked talking with his hands but tried to keep them on the steering wheel as well.

He’s so compelled by his energy that it takes him a moment to realize their car is alone.

“Hey, where is everyone else?” He asks, nervously looking around to see that all the cars that were travelling together had disappeared.

“Oh, we all take different routes.” Mitch answers and the red alarms start blaring off.

Why were they alone? Why are they taking different routes? Is this an elaborate plan? Did Mitch arrange this whole thing just to take Jonas out in the middle of nowhere so he could kill him without any trouble?

“How come?” His voice sounds strained.

“Would ya believe me if I said I wanted some time with you before we get surrounded by a bunch of goons?” Mitch says with so much false sweetness.

Jonas gives him a look and he gives him an overdramatic shrug.

“Okay you got me! We can’t let people get uhh suspicious. We can’t all roll up in a bunch of cars together, shit looks weird.” This time it’s truthful but the fear still lingers. It sounds smart, it’s not like Narcotics is mindless….

Jonas calms with this new information. They were just being careful… He’s not gonna get murdered tonight. To keep the conversation going he fishes out a question, “Does it… Ever get tiring?”

“What?”

He blanks, mouth opening and closing.

_Say something that’s on your mind._

“Like… Doesn’t it get hard sneaking around all the time?” He’s thought about it before, wondering how they all got so accustomed to always hiding in the shadows and never saying their names too loudly.

“... Yeah, guess it does.” Mitch says which doesn’t offer him much.

The silence returns like an old unwanted friend. They’ve managed to fill the cracks with pleasantries and the thought of it slipping away doesn’t feel good.

“I never get out of Sellwood, ever, like I barely travel so this is… This is really neat,” he cringes at his choice of words but goes with it.

“Really?” It’s a sign to keep going.

It’s an opportunity to open up parts of himself to Mitch. He would be able to spill some truth without it being so deterring and he can also get answers. In truth though, Jonas is impulsive, and lying through your teeth gets hard.

“My sister,” what is he doing? “She… She would have loved to go. She’s always loved the thought of big cities.”

“Huh... _would have_ you said?” Mitch asks slowly like he’s walking through a minefield.

He caught onto his word choice so kudos to him. But now Jonas has to talk about this, and only now is it hitting that he’s never talked about it with anyone. It’s been sitting like a hot pot in his head this entire time.

“Yeah she- she um, passed away awhile ago, but she would have really loved this, like she loves cities,” he’s repeating himself, fumbling awkwardly with his words. “She’s the reason I’m here right now, and stuff.”

“Yeah?”

Why is Mitch letting him talk? This is an absolute disaster but the words are flooding out like he’s at high tide and all of him is crashing to the shore.

“Mmhm, she’s like super into getting out there. She was, that is, um, she and I liked making plans to go to other states. Or cities. But Sellwood liked keeping us there and-” his voice cracks, “Um, so yeah, she would be… Really thankful for you doing all this for me.” Another lie thrown out there.

Sidney would have hated Mitch’s guts.

Narcotics business aside, he was the kind of person Sidney would love to drag down and completely obliterate him with her words alone. If she was still alive she would be losing her mind. Then again, if she were alive he wouldn’t be here right now at all.

“God, I doubt it.”

Jonas blinks, forgetting for a moment where he was, “What?”

Mitch is making it a point to not look at him, his gaze hard at the road as they speed up, “I don’t think she would be very happy if she knew you were with me.”

“I don’t… Understand.”

“You deserve better than me.”

He’s confused, he wants to reach over and take Mitch’s hands off the wheel, “What are you talking about? You saved me.”

The frown on Mitch’s face deepens, “Yeah. The big mob boss saved you.”

Mitch would never fail to surprise him. He was a giant jerk, violent and unrelenting but… He’s himself, he’s human, and now… He’s self aware.

“... You could have had your way with me,” it comes out unexpectedly. Mitch makes a choking noise, and Jonas wants to hit himself for saying that.

“Shit, dude! No! That’s so fucked up,” he’s still not looking at Jonas.

He’s so very… Real.

“In that way, you saved me,” The truth hurts and feels amazing to say, “You could have killed me and you didn’t.”

“Of course not, you don’t deserve tha-”

“Other people would have,” Jonas cuts him off. He didn’t want Mitch to finish that sentence. “There would be others that wouldn’t have hesitated. I’m lucky to be alive.”

Mitch goes to say something but to no avail. His mouth closes, and he continues to speed up. Jonas has an ache in his chest and there’s words lodged in the back of his throat, begging to say more.

He knows he doesn’t have to.

But that feeling of incompletion kills him. It makes him feel all chewed up and angry that Mitch is the one keeping him grounded.

He goes to say some last retort but Mitch beats him to it.

“I wanna stop at a station. I need to show you something.” He says, bruised hands gripping the wheel so tight that the cuts threaten to split open. He looks determined, like a man on a mission.

“A station?” He squeaks, holding onto his seat for support because now Mitch had decided to say “screw the speed limit.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna get some snacks and I’m gonna show you the greatest thing in the world,” he’s valiant, eyes flickering to the side to keep on a watch for a store.

It only take four minutes until one comes to view. Mitch yanks the wheel to one side, Jonas grips the roof handle while they take off, the car speeding and coming to a jerky halt at the parking lot.

“Sit tight!” Mitch speeds off, not bothering to close the car door while he makes a beeline to the dingy looking store.

Jonas craned his neck to watch his boss burst through the doors.

He counted down the seconds in his head, wondering what exactly is Mitch planning to do. He didn’t have to wait too long though since it took exactly “twenty five mississippi's” for him to come running out.

The owner seemed rustled as they tried to run after Mitch but he was faster.

He chucked himself back into the car, throwing down the things he snatched and slamming down on the gas pedal. Thank Christ Jonas was wearing his seatbelt or else he would have gone flying straight out of the glass window.

“Mitch!!” he yelled, nails digging down to the dashboard for dear life, “What are you doing?!”

“Trust me!” Mitch yells back and Jonas is about to say that request is impossible and that he can’t but that’s when Mitch starts slowing down, and hits the brakes suddenly at a stop light.

His body barely stops from hurling itself against the dashboard. He’s hunched over, pushing himself back, “Mitch, what the heck is wrong with you?!”

But he’s not paying attention.

Instead, he’s lifting two things off the car floor, a small round container of cheese and a paper bag full of tortilla chips.

“What- what are you doing?” He asks, trying to catch his breath as he stares at the two offending items.

Mitch popped the lid off the tub of cheese, and tore the chips open. "Now hold on a sec- check this out!" Jonas could only stare dumbly as he proceeded to dump the gooey melting cheese into the bag. Some of it hit the rim of the bag, pouring down on the carseat but Mitch didn’t seem to mind.

He’s crazy. He’s officially insane.

He’s stringing unintelligible phrases while Mitch finishes dumping the cheese in the bag and shaking it thoroughly. He then rolls down the window to toss out the container. He’s a litterer too, how wonderful.

“Try it!” Mitch hands Jonas the lumpy bag, resuming back to driving since the light turned green.

The bag feels disgustingly mushy in his hand, “You stole from a convenience store for a bag of chips and cheese? Why did you put them together?! We can get in-”

“Joooey,” the other teases, “Don’t knock it till ya try it!”

He sputters, annoyed at how nonchalant he’s being. “I don’t-”

“Just try the fuckin’ cheese chip.”

Jonas snaps his mouth shut, looking down at the bag. He hesitantly puts his hand in, cringing as he grabs a chip, “Why did-”

“Joey.”

He sighs exasperated, shoving the chip in his mouth.

…

He chews slowly.

…

“You like it dontcha?” Mitch says smugly and Jonas glares at him from the passenger seat.

“Shush, it’s! It’s not… Bad.” He goes for a second. And a third one. Maybe a fourth. “What do you call these again?”

“Cheese chips, trying to pick a better name. Something like… Cheese mush.” Jonas goes to offer him one but Mitch shakes his head, “That’s for you. My greatest invention.”

“Oh uh… Thank you,” Jonas goes for another. They’re really good, how has nobody thought of this before?

Mitch must be some kind of genius after all.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jonas woke up.

After the cheesy chips and a couple of rounds of storytelling, Jonas felt sleep ebb at the corners of his eyes and Mitch told him if he was tired he could go to sleep.

It wasn’t hard.

All he had to do was lay back into the reclined car chair and he was out in seconds.

Cracking his eyes open his vision was assaulted by bulbous luminescent lights, all varied in color and made his head spin in circles. He lifted his loose fist to rub at his eyes and adjust to the brilliant city glare.

The next thing he noticed was a suit jacket that had wormed its way over him. It slid down his lap when he sat up, capturing the attention of the driver.

For a moment, he’s forgotten where he was but then he makes out the huge grin and it all comes back to him.

He’s on a road trip with a mob boss.

Somehow that isn’t his first thought. Instead, it’s “I’m on a road trip with Mitch Mueller.” And the worst part is that it’s layered in thick affection that has him instantly waking up.

“Where are we?” He says, grimacing at how groggy and thick his voice was. Not to mention the inside of his mouth feels dry and disgusting.

“Luminville, babe.” Mitch grabs his suit jacket from his lap and easily puts it back on while at a red light.

He grunts, not appreciating the term “babe” but doesn’t tell him to stop. His face feels hot.

“Already?” He continues to rub his eyes, looking around a bit dazed at the buildings that loom over their car. They’re huge and they’re so beautifully ominous that it’s dazzling. He’s never been able to sit in the heart of the city and simply enjoy.

“It’s pretty isn’t it?” Mitch asks and all he could do is nod.

He’s absolutely starry eyed, excited to see so many huge brand named stores and extravagant clothing the people are wearing. He looks back at Mitch, positively radiant and notices that he hasn’t taken his eyes off him.

The eye contact is intimate but quick.

He tears his gaze away, continuing to stare up at the clouded dark sky. He must have been asleep for a while.

The car takes a few more turns and twists around the puzzling roads before leaving the gorgeous streets and incredible stores to a more polluted, run down section of the city. “Our building’s up ahead!” Mitch nods his head to a building that looks like it’s supposed to be abandoned, “That’s where we’re staying!”

Jonas would lie if he said that he wasn’t slightly disappointed it wasn’t a gorgeous lavish hotel but then he shakes his head to get out of that mentality.

This is Narcotics. They can’t be in plain sight. Anyone who would take a look at a group of rough looking people would immediately get suspicious. It’s smart to stay on the down low.

Mitch gets out of the car and he follows suit. He goes to get his bags but Mitch shakes his head, telling him someone will take his bags for him. That someone turns out to be Cliff, grumbling under his breath as he carries them in.

Through the busted glass door entrance Javier, Scratch, and a few others loitering the hall perk up at Mitch’s arrival. After a brief flash of hesitation Javier walks up swiftly with his arms crossed.

“Fourth car hasn’t arrived yet, but thank Christ you got here,” He says, and the crucial tone in his voice makes Mitch pause.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s been some sort of… Interference.” Javier replies, eyes flickering to Jonas for a moment as if he forgot he was there, “Shit, hey, why don’t you go to your rooms first. We can talk about it later.”

“If it has anything do with shithead’s crew then we don’t gotta worry. Those fuckers promised not to mess with us,” Mitch coughs then, and slings his arm around Jonas, pulling him to his side. “Enough of that shit! Let’s get shitfaced!”

Jonas looks up at him, “We just got here.”

“And you still have a hangover.” Javier points out.

The rest of the gang is giving Mitch dubious looks and he raises his free arm in surrender, “I didn’t mean nothin’ by it! Christ, you guys can’t take a joke. Gimme the keys Javi, I wanna see the room.”

Scratch tosses the keys at Javier who hands it to Mitch. They exchange a meaningful look, with it comes an unheard conversation. Then it breaks when Mitch gestures that he follow him up the stairs to their dedicated rooms, handing him his own keys on the way up.

“Come get me when you’re all unpacked, all your shit should be in your room,” MItch says to him as they walk down the same hall, stopping and pointing at his numbered door, “This one's mine.”

Jonas glances at his keys and the door right next to Mitch’s. “Ah, that one’s mine then…”

“We’re right next to each other, huh?”

He glances at Mitch’s trademark smug look, “Seems so.”

Jonas gathers the courage to give him back a smile. It lasts for a second too long. They make the move of opening their doors at the same time.

It’s rigged.

He just about explodes right then and there because the two doors lead to the same freaking room.

“I’m gonna kill myself,” he mumbled in disbelief while Mitch whistles innocently.

“Well would ya look at that! Ever heard of a room having two doors?” He jokes while Jonas stands there, his entire physique crumbles all around him.

“I… Ah,” he keeps flickering back and forth to the two beds, and thank god there’s two beds. “Why do we have… The same room?”

“I dunno,” Mitch replies dumbly, going over to his own bed and flopping down ungracefully. He pulls out the drawer next to the bed and is delighted to see a pack of cigarettes, “Not a lot of rooms available, maybe.”

“It’s an entire building,” he points out, flatly. This is ridiculous, there had to be some open rooms left. “Isn’t there any other rooms?”

“Sure, the other fucked up rooms infested with rats, roaches, and bedbugs,” Mitch lights up a cigarette and inhales from it, “Come on, Spots. Is stayin’ with me really that terrible?”

“No!” He says quickly, he walks over to his bed carefully, untrustful of the apparently ‘rat infested’ floors.

It couldn’t be so bad to stay with Mitch for the few days they were gonna be here. It’s not as if he’d die, although, it would do very little to calm down the rush of emotions that’s been swirling and confusing him since last week. But… Again, there’s two separate beds. That has to count for something.

He sits down, grabbing at his stuff that was carried in already and opening to make sure it was all his. “I guess we’re in the same room then.”

“Jesus, you don’t gotta act like I just killed your dad or something! If it really bothers you that much, I’ll just get Javier to switch me out, jesus,” Mitch says, tight-lipped and annoyed which makes Jonas feels regretful. He hadn’t meant to turn the mood sour.

“No really, it’s fine. We can stay together,” he assured.

Silence settled in, one that was both uncomfortable and pensive. It made it all too real how quick Mitch was to change in moods, Jonas really didn’t want to provoke that attitude out of him. But like that, it’s gone when a smirk eases onto his face.

Mitch looks over at him, looking him up and down as he always does. It’s become a norm and it doesn’t make him as nervous anymore. But it doesn’t stop the flush he feels on the back of his neck.

“So, you like ice skating, huh?” He says, and it takes Jonas a moment to really sink in what he just said.

“Excuse me?”

“Back in the car, you said you liked ice skating,” Mitch continued, not adding any other information or sense to the conversation.

“What does… That have to do with anything?”

“Are you tired?” He asks, completely going into another direction. He’s confusing, like a puzzle with too many pieces and just when Jonas has a grasp of it, more pieces come to play and leaves him stumped. It’s enticing.

“Not really,” he answers honestly and Mitch’s smirk grows into something promising.

“Come out with me tonight, it’ll be fun.” There’s so much vagueness in his voice but it only makes Jonas more interested. Mitch is the most complex puzzle he’s ever met, and he wants to keep playing whatever game this is. He doesn’t fight away the small but nervous smile that comes seamlessly.

“Like right now?”

“Duh,” he gets up, pocketing his pack of cigarettes and reaches out his hand.

Jonas doesn’t even think twice before taking it.

The thing about Mitch is that he hasn’t have a single clue to what they can get themselves into. As they walk down the awkwardly painted and stretched out corridors people like Dean, Sue, and the police force do not plague him with guilt.

He’s been on over hundreds of cases. He’s cracked cases, interviewed criminals, and seen blood splatter right before his eyes.

Yet, walking hand in hand with Mitchell Mueller to go on some kind of unnamed adventure gives him a whole new different formula of thrill and adrenaline. It’s scary how addictive it is, and how tightly he holds on.

“Hold down the fort!” Mitch calls out to Javier as they make their way out, Mitch holding the car door open for him.

“You two crazy kids have fun! Stay safe, though!” Javier says back, causing a stream of laughter to tumble out from the other members watching them leave. Mitch tells them to fuck off as he starts up the engine and drives away.

Jonas doesn’t watch the routes they take, he can only keep his wonder filled eyes on Mitch. He never fails to surprise him. There’s fear, and some worry that’s telling him to run away. That for all he knows, Mitch could be taking him to his ultimate death but… Oh well.

He never liked running anyways.

 

 

* * *

 

 

An ice rink.

The sign is lit up so brightly that it’s an eye strain. The sleek white building is gorgeous from the outside and Jonas can barely hold his excitement.

He’s pretty sure he’s vibrating as they exit the car and enter the beautiful architecture of this ice palace. He doesn’t want to ask how much this is going to cost because it may scare him off, he can live in the ignorance of not knowing for now.

“Mitch, where on earth did you find this place?” He asks rather breathlessly.

Mitch shrugs, “Was here last time and thought you’d like to come.” There’s something ungenuine about his tone. This is all too perfectly planned, too precise, unless Mitch is somehow made out of magic and knows all these excellent spots then how on earth did he know where exactly to go? Then again, Mitch is a man of resound and surprises.

Jonas eyes the “closed” sign as they proceed up to the counter where a burly looking man sat.

“Hey,” he spoke gruffly with a chainsmokers voice, “You can’t be here, it’s closing hours.” He points boredly at the sign.

Mitch quirks an eyebrow, “Yeah we can.”

“Huh?” the man sits up straighter, frown deepening. “Wanna say that again, son?”

Jonas glances up at Mitch worriedly but he’s calm, reaching into his pocket and there’s a flash of panic before he takes his hand out, slapping four twenty dollar bills down with too much force. “I said, yeah, we can. Now let us in.”

The owner looks down at the money, grabbing it greedily and inspecting it to make sure it’s real, his eyes wide in astonishment. He’s absolutely delighted that it’s real and an unsettling grin stretches over his mean face, “What are your shoe sizes?”

“Gimme size sixteen, or the biggest fuckin’ ones you got,” Mitch nudges Jonas who looked up at him with a look of disbelief.

“Why are your- Nevermind, uh, size five… Please,” he mumbles nervously while the owner gets them their ice skates.

Once they get them Mitch starts walking to the rink while Jonas says a quick “thank you” before catching up to the other. When he does, he promptly hits Mitch in the back with the side of his ice skate and he responds with a sharp “ow!”

“Jesus, Joey! What was that for!” He cries out as Jonas hits him again with the other skate.

“You just gave away eighty dollars like it was candy! I don’t like when you spend so much on me!” He yells, hitting him a third time for good measure. Mitch tries to jump away from him but he barrels against him, the two of them playfully shoving at each other and it’s only then does Jonas take a good look at the ice rink.

The gasp he does is most likely over dramatic and unnecessary.

He can’t help himself. The hues of light on the ice are beautiful shades of pinks and blues, all melding into something purple and clean. It’s quiet, maybe a little eerie since it’s empty besides them, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Jonas is pretty sure he’s gaping and feels the excitement wash over him.

He doesn’t catch how fondly Mitch is gazing at him while he ties on his skates, eager to go out into a world of chilled wonder. And then the realization crashes down like reality coming to life.

He doesn’t know how to skate.

“You said you can skate, right Spots?” Mitch asks, looking at him with a smug look that read ‘I know you can’t.’ Jonas bristled under the look and scoffed.

“It’s not hard,” he grumbles, not wanting to admit that he has no idea how to do this. “How about you?”

“I’ve done harder shit, this is whatever.” Mitch says nonchalantly and Jonas doesn’t press him for more. First things first, getting on the ice.

Like a newly born baby deer he stands on his skates, walking over to the entrance. He steps onto the ice and his hand reflexively grabs onto the edge of the wall as he glides shakily. He doesn’t want to let go, knowing that his knees are a second away from collapsing.

He looks to see Mitch stepping on the ice, standing on it and looking down. “Shits not too hard! Ha, what’s wrong Joey? Can’t even stand without holding the wall?”

He sputters, “Shut up!”

“If you want, you can  hold onto me!”

Then, the most glorious thing that could ever happen occurs.

Mitch attempts to slide forward, and without warning, his leg extends in front of him and he immediately starts trying to jerk it back which have his feet completely tumbling over themselves. He screams “SHIT!” before he falls forward, eating ice.

Jonas stands, still clutching the wall with wide eyes and he smiles. It gets wider, and before he knows it, he’s doubling over, laughing until tears are in his eyes.

“This is fine!!” Mitch yells, trying to push himself up using his hands but they manage to slip and he hits his cheek against the ice once more. “Everything is fine!”

He’s pushing his legs to slide over where Jonas is currently losing his shit.

Jonas makes a noise that sounds like a broken ugly guffaw when Mitch grabs him by his middle, pulling himself up and grabs onto the wall next to him. They’re inches apart but they barely notice while Mitch is trying to hide his embarrassment and Jonas keeps laughing at his face.

“So the big bad mafia boss got taken down by ice, huh?” He says cheekily and in between giggles.

“It’s not fuckin’ easy! How about you, huh? Didn’t you say you knew how to do this!” He accuses but Jonas shakes his head.

“Maybe I used to but not anymore. If you died out there on the ice there’s no way I’m going to survive,” he shoots back.

Mitch leans on him, bumping him with his hip, “Hey, if you fall I’ll catch you.”

He glares at him, bumping him back, “I’m sure if you catch me you’re gonna fall too, genius.”

“You overestimate me. I’m fucking strong as fuck.” Jonas looks at him puzzled.

“Do you mean underestimate?”

“Same thing.”

It’s really not but Jonas doesn’t want to argue about grammar right now. Instead, he gives Mitch an all too cautious look before he hesitantly lets go of the wall. That’s phase one. Mitch gives him a little “woo!” and it gives him the courage to slide onwards.

He tries to move his feet accordingly but that proves to be a mistake when suddenly his legs are going forward and the top part of his body is going backwards.

He makes a sound of a dying giraffe, arms flailing as he yelps and then Mitch is stumbling, catching him. But to both of their dismay, they end up falling together. Mitch hits the ice hard while Jonas has an uncomfortable landing against his body.

They’re like worms on the ice, wriggling over each other and Mitch can’t help but burst out laughing in the middle of doing an unsuccessful wiggle up.

He lays down in defeat, but laughs like he’s a champion. It makes Jonas laugh too, his knee slides over and he lays on the ice on his stomach. They’re two huge giant messes who can’t stand on the ice. It’s absolutely absurd.

Their laughter dies down and fades to giggles, both of them lying together against the cool comforting ice. It’s chilled but all Jonas can feel is warmth pooling in his stomach.

They breathe together, relaxed and taking in the moment.

Then Mitch turns to look at him and says, “I bet I can get up before you.”

There’s a beat.

And Jonas is pushing his knees to get up and Mitch starts swinging his arms to help him with leverage. Both of them are scrambling, hitting their skates against on one another and pushing on each other to stand.

Jonas lets out a hysterical laugh as Mitch uses his freakishly long limbs to latch onto the wall and pull himself up, whilst also doing the same for Jonas.

They keep scrambling, having to lean against the hard surface and Jonas ends up pressed against Mitch’s chest, holding onto the wall for dear life. The first thing Mitch does is let out a gross laugh into his ear, “Ha! I got up first!”

“No you didn’t! You cheated!” He says, and Mitch flicks his nose.

“You got no proof.” Jonas rolls his eyes and makes a dramatic exit of shoving Mitch and skating away. While holding onto the wall and inching away slowly.

He hears Mitch do the same, skating behind him.

Talking comes quickly while awkwardly doing this shuffle skating walk. It starts off small, like how hard ice skating is and that this wasn’t the best idea. Still, Jonas is glad they came here, except.

He shivers as the gust of air conditioning wafts over. It’s much colder in here than outside and he’s starting to regret his poor choice of clothing. His bare arms have touched the ice so many times and they’re starting to feel a bit numb.

He verbally complains about it and Mitch hums thoughtfully, “I should buy you a jacket.”

“Don’t!” He says, shaking his head. “You spend too much money on me, you have to stop doing that.”

Mitch makes an “eh” sound and reaches up to him on the rink. He leans close to his ear to say, “You’re worth it.”

Jonas chokes on his spit. He nearly gives himself whiplash as he snaps to look at him, which is a mistake because their faces are much too close. He turns back, skating away faster, “Well! Uh! Then… I should buy you something too!” He says, flustered and refusing to look back.

The taller man snorts, “You don’t gotta buy me nothin’.”

He clears his throat, “I’m serious… What do you want?”

“Well,” Mitch drawls and Jonas still doesn’t want to look back, knowing that he’ll only be faced with some intense look, “At the moment, you.”

His heart stutters in his chest.

He almost tumbles forward and he has to swallow dryly, his throat suddenly parched. Jesus Christ, is all he thinks as his eyes flicker all over the place to find some kind of focus. “Ha,” is all he manages and pushes himself off the wall.

His goal is to skate as far away as possible.

It works for about five seconds where he makes it to the center of the rink before his knees give out, sending him sprawling all over the ice.

“Christ! Jo!” Mitch calls out to him, skating speedily to where he is but doesn’t know how to stop so he just flops over Jonas and they both groan in pain.

“Get off me!” Jonas screams, while Mitch tries to kick his legs to push himself off.

“This wasn’t a good idea!!”

They nearly end up giving each other black eyes with how badly they’re flailing and shoving. They settle for awkwardly sliding over to the rim of the rink, no longer trying to stand up but instead, they sit against the wall, laughing like defeated children. Jonas decides to be brave and leans his head against the side of Mitch’s arm.

“Why’d you even bring us here? We’re awful at this,” he says but he’s full of content rather than disappointment or anger. Mitch rests his arm comfortably around his shoulders and he doesn’t pull away.

“Ah shit, I dunno… Saw it on one of those silent films once. Those fucks made it look easy,” Mitch admits and Jonas isn’t sure what’s more charming. The fact that Mitch steals ideas from movies or how he thought they’d automatically know what actors train to do.

“I wonder… What people would think,” He says it without much thought.

“Huh? What do you mean?” Mitch inquires and Jonas blinks, cursing at himself for saying it outloud.

“Uh… Y’know… Big mafia boss falling on his ass in an ice rink,” to his relief, Mitch only grins and lets out a deep chuckle.

“My enemies would have a fuckin’ riot. Knowing them, they’ll hold out a shootout in the middle of a frozen lake just to make fun of me,” Mitch says and Jonas shifts closer, he doesn’t know why, but Mitch takes the note and brings him in even more.

“Enemies, huh?” He breathes and Mitch nods.

“You got no idea. Those meatheads would do anything to get a couple of kicks,” he tsks but he has this playful smile. It’s… Nice.

“But you always… Uh, win, right?”

His grin falters, “Most of the time. It’s not hard to pop a cap straight through those idiots skulls. I’ve done it before and I’d do it again”

It makes him vaguely uncomfortable.

He’s sitting with a murderer, his hand is laid so casually across Jonas’s shoulder. The same hand that’s been used to kill people. It’s unfair that someone as dangerous as Mitch can also be a complete utter good.

A good that sucks at ice skating and likes to watch silent films.

 _You’re such an idiot,_ he tells himself. What the heck is he doing? He’s been fooling around, having some sick twisted fun with this guy when he should be getting information. He frowns at his own inadequacy.

“Seems… Scary.”

“Skulls?”

Jonas laughs, “No, uh… Shooting someone.”

Mitch hums, thinking about it for a moment before shrugging, “It comes with the job. You get used to it.”

How could anyone get used to taking a person’s life?

“So what? You get used to it? Just like that?” There’s a bit more bite to his tone, and he feels the need to move away from Mitch.

Mitch frowns, “Hey… You should have seen this kinda shit go down already. No need to get defensive-”

“I’m not! Getting defensive!” He says, but he wishes he didn’t. He shrugs off Mitch’s arm from his shoulders and pulls his knees up to his chest. They don’t say anything for a moment and Jonas is angry at himself for becoming so vulnerable. Mitch doesn’t say anything but he probably looks like a kicked dog.

He sighs, “I just… It’s hard to understand. Sellwood, this city, and everywhere, it’s like- People are always dying.”

Mitch moves away from him a bit, so not even their legs are touching. Jonas mourns the touch but doesn’t say anything more.

“... You really are a good one.”

He huffs, “What does that mean?

“You’re such a… Good person,” Mitch sounds at awe and it makes his stomach hurt. He doesn’t need to hear this right now.

“I’m not.”

“You are.” Mitch pauses before resuming, “This is business, Joey. We gotta do what we gotta do to get money and to get piece of shit people off the platform.”

Jonas blinks. What? What did that last part mean? He understood the money gain but… “What… Do you mean?”

Mitch runs his hand through his hair, sighing through his nose, “Drug deals are something, y’know.  Desperate gangs and people wanting their monthlys worth. And the speakeasies are just for people who wanna slug a fucking drink without getting caught... And then there’s the fuckin’ scumbags trying to fuck other people’s lives. They’re our targets.”

He hangs on every single word, completely fascinated by this newfound information. “I never... “ Knew that. He shakes out of it, “What do you mean by… Scumbags?”

Mitch laughs, it’s without humor and there’s no light in his eyes. “God! Where do I even fuckin’ start… They’re shitheads. Assholes that have threatened or killed my gang members. Other gang amateurs thinking they’re hot shit just cause they got a gun to play with.” His face changes grimly, and his hand curls up into a fist.

“... And then, there are those disgusting bastards that think abusing’ animals is funny. That think human trafficking is an easy way to get cash or selling and murderin’ kids is entertainment!” His voice grows with absolute disdain and volume. He slumps against the wall, fists shaking, “Literally anyone that is like those assholes in Number 79.”

“Number… 79.” He repeats because he knows it.

Narcotics has the spotlight because everyone knows their name, their ruthless kills, and how popular they are. But in their shadow, Number 79 sits. They control near the lower part of California so Sellwood isn’t affected but it’s always terrifying to hear different towns’ stories.

“So gangs work.. Differently.” Jonas assumed they all did the same things, all sewed from the same patch.

Mitch looks at him confused, as if he’d thought Jonas would already know these things. “Of course we do. We’ve got your assholes from 4th Planet, Joint Smokers, and all kinds of gangs trying to make it big, but Number 79? They take shit too far.” He shakes his head, annoyed while Jonas soaks in this information.

He… Didn’t know.

“I heard of Narcotics keeping Number 79 out of the upper part of California, including Sellwood,” Jonas says and Mitch nods along.

“Someone’s gotta keep the money flowing and the people growing.”

Jonas looks down, astounded. He was left in the dark for so many years… They all have. There is a whole new system that was unheard of. Everyone thought the police did everything but… Jeez.

He believed all gangs were the same, especially Narcotics. Killing innocent random people… But that can’t be the case. Not in this gang at least. He’s… Really starting to doubt everything he once knew. And now, it’s almost entirely certain they had nothing to do with Sidney’s death.

“... And police? How do they come to play in all of…” He does some hand movements, “This.”

“Haha,” Mitch snorts, “They can’t do nothing. It’s always been that way.”

“So they.. Never got close to catching you? Or anyone in Narcotics?” He ignores the way his heart thuds.

“Oh please, I’ve outrun them so many times I’m startin’ to think they’re all brain dead! I’ve never been to jail cause I never get caught!” He says proudly and Jonas is flooded with the situational irony of it all.

He sees the shadows in Mitch’s face and it makes him look out the large windows surrounding the ice rink. It’s grown incredibly dark.

They sit there for a few more moments before they decide to leave. It takes a few tumbles and scrambling to get to the exit but they make it. They leave their ice skates at the counter where the man had fell asleep sitting up.

Mitch opens the car door for him and he sits down, exhaustion ebbing away at him. He closes his eyes, because in that way he won’t have to look at Mitch. He doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore, truth be told.

He’s… Well, he’s pretty fucked up.

There’s something in the way Mitch moves, acts, and talks. It should all throw him off but Jonas is like a moth and Mitch is a ray of light that keeps pulling him in. It’s magnetic. It makes him want to believe in him. He doesn’t know how long he can ignore how every time Mitch smiles it gets harder to breathe.

He knows he can’t keep going on like this.

The only way to continue on is to squash this emotional attachment down.

Crush it, smash it to pieces, keep it hidden away. Whatever it takes.

He pretends to fall asleep in the passenger's seat. And he quickly wipes away any excess tears, hoping that the sky is dark enough to hide away the tear streaks.

He’s falling apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave your comments down here!
> 
> I run the fan blog, Mitjo, on tumblr!
> 
> This was Beta'd by Smokeplanet, Mars, herself! And thank god too or else this would have had a lot more mistakes!!
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> If y'all have any fan theories of..... what's going on.... who the killer is...... why did sidney get murdered..... what's wrong with jo..... please do comment... :^)


	4. Act 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back?
> 
> A thousand apologies to all the waiting! I assure you though that this chapter is worth the wait! I've been dealing with a very difficult time of my own that halted my writing time. I have several things to address but first!!
> 
> The Narcotics Fanzine! My very good friends surprised me with this one and it's a Zine of different peoples fanart for Pink Tequila, including Mars herself! You can read about it over here:  
> https://gumroad.com/l/cCFJG
> 
> Secondly, my situation. Right now I'm not doing so good financially, and I'm still coping with the loss of my mother. I have a donation page set up right over here:  
> https://www.gofundme.com/a-mothers-love-knows-no-boundaries
> 
> Lastly, thank you all so much for sticking around! Big thank you to smokeplanet (Mars) for being my Beta!
> 
> Some warnings for this chapter: Violence, crude language, death, gore, sex, and excessive amount of gayness

_Dead, am I dead?_

Each time the slow tick of a second passes the answer becomes a more prevalent “yes.” The last ounces of hope that she holds loosely in the tied palms of her hands is the fact that she’s still breathing and kicking weakly against a wooden chair. There’s not much to do when splinters dig beneath your skin and have two, or three, broken ribs.

Any suspicious movement or sound she senses around her causes a whimper to tear through her gagged mouth. Her drool has soaked through the gag, dripping and mixing with salty tears and coppery blood, she’s unaware if it’s coming from the ache of her forehead or the bloodied remains inside her mouth.

Nothing is worse than this. Blindfolded and broken, scratchy thick rope that’s cutting off circulation in her wrists, still all she can think about is that she didn’t fully savor this morning's sunlight when she could. She learns to stop struggling, she knows that making her body go limp is the only source of comfort she has now. There is an uneasy agony that comes with knowing you’re about to die, but a part of you yearns to fight. Within this painful fight against herself another question comes to mind.

 _What has_ **_he_ ** _done?_

A life she once thought was beautiful. How funny that it was full of longing, loving, losing, but never truly living, and in the end it all boils down to this. She aches to laugh.

Suddenly there are footsteps. The fight is ignited and she jerks up, thrashing against the chair fruitlessly.

The sound is unnerving. The familiar “click, clack” of stiletto heels hitting against concrete has her hyperventilating, which only causes her to choke around the thick gag soaked in her fluids. She could only beg that this torture would stop, that this would be the very last time before she puts her out of her misery.

“Hello,” the voice is chipper, sweet like sugar with something shaky and apprehensive.. “I see he did his job... accordingly.”

Expecting something more, like a knife against her throat or a gun to her head, she immediately starts to whimper. The soothing mother-like shush does nothing to quell her fear, it only instills it.

Razor sharp nails come under her chin. With all the intents and purposes to tear off her skin but only grazes it, like a subtle warning. “Don’t resist. It’ll make my job a lot harder.”

Eerie humming tries to calm her down, and the no named woman pats her hair softly. She’s surprised when the gag is gently tugged out of her mouth and she takes harsh breaths, coughing and relishing in the thick murky air filling her lungs.

A silly little laugh fills her ears, “Ah, are you okay? You weren’t breathing for a moment.”

She cries, her mouth falling open to find the words, “Is-Is this about him?! I wasn’t part of it, I swear!” She’s gasping like a fish out of water, her words coming out in irresolute babble.

“Oh, sweetheart, there’s no use begging. You are just… Another warning.” She can practically see the dangerous, yet wistful, smile stretching over the woman's face, “And you should know. Dear little Jonah is up to no good.”

“No… No go-” she gargles. Feeling a sharp knife cut straight through her stomach, clean like butter and so smoothly that it doesn’t feel real. She lets out a strangled cry, tears coming down fast until unconsciousness grants her mercy and takes her away. And with it, death follows after.

 

* * *

 

 

Repeat it again.

“I only stick to you… because there are no others,” Jonas whispers into his pillow as he has been for the past thirty minutes. He doesn’t move from from underneath layers of thick comforters, partially because he feels dread, mostly because he’s really cozy.

Also, there’s something about muttering a phrase to yourself like a coward in bed that has to make it more believable.

He’s hoping and praying to any other wordly figure to magically make whatever he’s spewing true.

The arteries in his chest connecting to the weakest part of his body is cowering. It’s trembling and trying to tell his head the truth. “Stop lying to yourself you fool,” it says to him but he refuses to lend an ear to it. He’s not going down in history as the joke that jeopardized his own mission because he couldn’t keep a lid on his emotions.

He’s really trying his best to not think about Mitch, and the way he easily sweeps him away. There is no doubt in his mind that he’s an absolute terror with no good bone in his body. But that’s not entirely true and he can’t even rebuke it anymore.

Jonas knows how to deal with people whose eyes only scream of violence and no mercy. He doesn’t know how to handle an honest to goodness human who is so ridiculously clumsy. He was prepared for the worst, not a man that trips over his own gigantic feet and promises to catch him when he falls but ends up tumbling down with him anyways.

An ache spreads throughout his chest, blooming irrevocably and twisting around his ribs.

There’s a spoon of bile resting in his throat that wants to burn through the inner linings of his throat. His stomach churns with butterflies; but they don’t flutter. They crash and scream, making themselves known.

It was worse this morning when Mitch had left.

He was leaving before the sun was even up for some business. This would be fine if he hadn’t woken Jonas up to tell him such.

He had nudged him awake, and Jonas blearily looked up at the man in his polished suit and tie, hair sleek with grease. In a moment of weakness he thought about running his hands through it.

Before he could get the chance to, Mitch had looked down at him, touched his cheek with a big open palm and told him he’d be back sometime in the afternoon. Jonas had sleepily leaned into his touch and nuzzled into that hand, not aware that this was reality.

Mitch reached into his suit, leaving something besides the bedside drawer and told him to keep sleeping. And how he was sorry for waking him up.

Jonas had murmured something unintelligible before falling back asleep.

And now awake, his heart feels like it might beat out of its chest because what the heck?

_What the heck was that?_

Those gestures were not unlike a lover’s. A couple, married for years, already used to each other, routine ingrained, and blissfully domestic. It’s a husband leaving his partner for work and kissing them goodbye. Affectionate.

He feels the world collapse under his back and his body jolts, forcing him to complete consciousness. He sits up, albeit reluctantly, and his head is rushing. He hasn’t slept that long in a while.

Groggily, he turns to the nightstand to see what Mitch had left behind.

“You idiot,” he breathes. “You damn fool.”

He snatches the messy pile of twenty dollar bills, shaking his head frantically. It sums up to over a hundred dollars. It’s damn near gold in his hands.

For god's sake! He wants to slap Mitch right across the head!

“You pigheaded idiot.” He shouts, to no one but himself. His words in volume are a bark but it holds no bite whatsoever.

It’s no surprise that Mitch is loaded, but… He should think before he acts. His money is important, he can’t keep flinging it around all willy nilly. Jonas frowns, looking through the wad of cash and sighing deeply.

He can take care of himself. He doesn’t need any handouts, especially from some mob leader.

 _But he didn’t mean it that way._ His chest says to him but he huffs anyways. He knows that but he can’t acknowledge it.

Mitch is not one to look down at Jonas, he’s but a reckless fool with his money. Still, it’s annoying that he can’t see that Jonas is perfectly capable of his own agency and not needing other people’s help.

… He takes a twenty and leaves the rest on the drawer.

 

* * *

 

 _This isn’t some three day vacation,_ his head reminds him. It isn’t only him and Mitch out here. In all honesty, he forgot that little important detail.

Whenever he’s with Mitch the rest of the world falls away and disappears.

It’s unsurprising he’s hit with a wake up call that tells him there are, in fact, others on this trip too. Other _mafia_ members that are here to sell drugs for bricks of cash. The ice breaker was Scratch, who decided to screech at the top of her lungs when she spotted him from across the lobby.

“HEY!” She sprints towards Jonas and he flinches, almost curling into himself as she skidded to a stop right in front of him. She leans in real close, eyes manic and her breath hitting his face. He squeaks, leaning backwards.

“It’s Mitch’s play thing!!” She cheers and Jonas wrinkles his nose.

“Uhhh,” he drones nervously, “Can you…. Not call me that, please. Sorry...”

She laughs, raspy and kind of obnoxiously, as she swings her arm over him which makes Jonas have to hunch down a bit to get to her level, “It’s okay you little nerd!! Headin’ out somewhere special?”

She nudges him rather hard and he has to pretend not to wheeze at the impact. He nods instead, grinning forcefully, “Uh, yeah- no! I just… Need some air.” He clears his throat subconsciously, “When is uh- when is Mitch getting back?”

That might have not been such a smart question to ask.

Scratch’s crazed expression goes from zero to a hundred, grinning wide and threatening to split her entire face in half, “Ahh I see, don’t wanna be around unless the white man is here.”

Jonas sputters while she giggles at his flushing face. She snorts, “He’ll be back! Don’t know when but he always comes back.”

“Um, thanks…” He says, shifting upright once more. Scratch’s eyes never leave him, almost as if she’s trying to break some sort of code. It makes him anxious so he laughs awkwardly, “Uhh what’s he selling anyways?”

“Ecstasy.”

“... Ecstasy.”

“Bucket fulls of ecstasy.”

Jonas gapes at her, “H-how- Ecstasy?!”

“You a broken record or?” She questions and Jonas continues to stare at her like she’s crazy. Cocaine makes sense, weed makes even more sense, but ecstasy?

“How on earth did you folk get ecstasy? In California no less!” He’s heard about it before, a hot new drug created sometime twenty years ago. In Europe. Narcotics is more impressive than he previously thought.

“We got our ways! Why, ya wanna…” She gasps, absolutely delighted, “You wanna try some!”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why didn’t you just say so?! Next time we’re at a club we’re gonna do it! Mitch will get us the good shit because he’s fucking in love-” A curt ‘ahem’ cuts through Scratch’s speech and they turn to see Javier hovering over them.

“Scratch, a word.” He says tight-lipped, nodding once at Jonas before grabbing the girl's head and lifting her away.

Jonas watches as Javier rushes out, the two of them bickering quietly until they’re out of sight.

His shoulders shake, a small burst of laughter escapes him. Mitch’s friends are odd but, as much as he wishes it weren’t true, they’re not bad people.

 

* * *

 

The day is treacherously slow.

He goes out, spending most of his time with his head tilted up high to stare at the monster like beauty of the city's structure. Everythings bigger, or maybe he’s just smaller than he once was. Either way, he feels elated being able to see the sights and sounds, if not a bit lonely.

There’s a pleasant little diner sitting at a corner on the nice side of town. He orders a coffee, making sure to drown it with milk and sugar before ordering a meal.

He’s tempted to get the ravioli because it reminded him of Mitch. He quickly decides against that option but he never leaves him mind.

When ordering dessert his own mind betrays him. He orders a blueberry pie to go because lord knows Mitch isn’t taking care of himself while he’s out doing his business. It’s a stupid thought, it makes him embarrassed as he gets the pie in a plastic bag then proceeding to stumble over to pay his check.

The man behind the counter stares at him oddly as he slides the cash seamlessly for his meal before leaving hurriedly.

Why is he worrying about him? Why did he get him pie? Why blueberry? Does Mitch even _like_ blueberry?

He’s going to make fun of Jonas surely but… For just a second, forgetting about all the illegal garbage he’s placed himself to, he had the innocent thought of “it would be nice if I could eat this with Mitch.” He’s not sure what’s more humiliating, the idea or that he actually did it.

When he comes back to the hotel a few gang members carelessly toss him some fax papers he’s told to look over. The job had been a success and Jonas lights up like a Christmas tree.

He rushes to the hotel room, ignoring Scratch’s whistles and Javier’s ill attempt at trying to cover his own rumbling laughter.

“Mitch!” Is the first thing out of his mouth when he opens the door. The next thing said is a more exasperated, shocked “Oh god, Mitch!”

“Ha, missed me that much?” Mitch teases while Jonas puts aside the pie and inspects his bloodied arm.

“What did you do? Were you not careful?” He prods, trying to find the source of the bleeding.

“Relaaax, stop worrying your pretty little head. The blood ain’t even mine.” Mitch states and laughs rembunciously as Jonas rips his hands away, a look of horror on his face. “I may be banged up but you should see the other guy.”

“You could have told me sooner before you let me touch some strangers blood! For christ's sake, come here.” Jonas makes a show of yanking Mitch to the tiny space of their shared bathroom. “Who knows what kind of disease it’s carrying.”

Jonas twists the faucet, grabbing some cheap hotel soap to help scrub off the dirt and blood from Mitch’s skin.

“Ya don’t look too concerned or even interested about how that son of a bitch’s blood got there in the first place,” Mitch says, cocked eyebrow as he watches Jonas closely, “I can do this myself, y’know.”

“Oh please, like you even know how to use soap.”

Jonas catches the look of disbelief before morphing into a huge grin. “Jesus, where’s all this sass coming from? Are you still that doe-eyed boy I hired when I first met ya?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t go around hirin’ the first pretty boy you see,” Jonas bites back, face turning red but he’s too preoccupied with scrubbing the last remains of blood that cling stubbornly to Mitch like a leech.

“First of all, you’re the first pretty boy I’ve hired on sight. That’s gotta count for something! And second of all, you still haven’t asked me whose lights I had to punch out to get this on my good arm.” The faucet is turned off and his now soaking wet arm is being enveloped by a towel.

“What? Is knowing the story going to impress me or something?”

“Was kinda hopin’ for it.”

Jonas snorts, “You’re gonna have to try a little harder than that Mr. Mueller.” He finishes drying off Mitch but doesn’t move right away. “You got the gall to leave me money in the morning and coming home all filthy.”

They don’t acknowledge his slip up on the word “home.” They choose to dance around one another, walking back to the bedroom and not once tearing away from each other’s gaze.

“I wanted you to get yourself something pretty.”

“Mmhm,” Jonas crosses his arms.

“Well didja?”

“Did I what?”

“Get yourself something pretty.”

He thinks about the blueberry pie that’s perched up on the hotel bed. “I don’t need it. I did get food though, hope you weren’t expecting some kind of dinner.”

Mitch whistles in mock amazement, “You got food, how fuckin’ exciting! Next thing you’re gonna tell me is ya got yourself a fancy roll of toilet paper.”

“Shut up, Jerk,” Jonas’s facade cracks. He can’t help the smile or having to giggle behind his palm. “At least I didn’t get blood all over me like a savage.”

Mitch hums, looking thoughtful before clapping his hands together. “Well, your day sounded boring as shit. Come on Joey, the night’s still young and I have a new suit to wear! Let’s find something you might like.”

It sounds rehearsed and nervous at the edges. Clearly he has something planned and Jonas bites his lower lip to contain any childish excitement.

“Again we’re going out? You better not be taking me to another skating rink. I don’t need you fumbling around like a giraffe on ice.”

“Hey now,” Mitch snaps, his pride wounded from the previous night.

Jonas basks in feeling smug.

It’s short lasted since Mitch insists on getting ready right on the spot. He glances down at his feet or at the ceiling. Anywhere but him as his ears burn and his fists ball up tightly. _Get a freaking grip, Joey_ the voice in his head berates him.

He exhales shakily, not focussing on the lines of Mitch’s arm or how they creep up to the sculpted masterpiece that is his back- _Get a fucking grip, Wagner._

“Ready to go!” Mitch shouts, grabbing his good hat from the coat rack. He stares at Jonas sitting down, flushed all the way up his forehead and he knocks his breath away with a smug smile, “What, you need an invitation?”

“Shut up,” Jonas grumbles. He smiles back and follows after him with a spring in his step.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You would not believe what kinda people desperate ass broke bastards will hire to do a heist, it’s as if they cherry pick these assholes off the street,” Mitch recalls, one hand erratically moving with the rhythm of his story telling while the other hangs loosely off the steering wheel. “I mean seriously, what kind of skinny looking white guy tries to fire a gun with one hand.”

“I don’t know, look in the mirror and ask him yourself.”

Mitch glares at him half heartedly from his seat, a grin pulling at the edge of his lip, “Joey, have I ever told you that you are one mouthy son of a bitch?”

“Maybe once or twice.” He squawks when the other reaches over to ruffle up his hair and he pushes his hand away.

He feels giddy tonight. Driving across the city where there’s lights as far as the eye can see does that to you. Rambunctious laughter fills the car, it’s the kind that starts loudly and dies down comfortably with a smile still painted on your face. Jonas watches Mitch from the passenger's seat and leans his head against the glass of the window.

He catches his fond stare in the reflection of the rearview mirror and he immediately looks away, coughing to himself, trying to ignore what he just saw.

“So...,” he starts, sitting up straight in his seat, “It’s been about fifteen minutes since I last asked where we were going.”

“Oh not this shit again, I told you to trust me, Spots!” Mitch says, making a left turn to an area that’s even more barren of any clues.

“Don’t I get any clues at all?”

“Hm… Let me think about it for a sec,” Mitch puts one hand under his chin with a contemplating expression, “No.”

“Oh come on!”

“You’re acting like I’m holding you at a gun point and dragging you off somewhere!”

“I mean, if we count the handguns in the backseat then you definitely are!” Jonas snaps back and they both burst into childish laughter once more. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much and his head feels fuzzy with something warm and kidlike.

When they first left from the hotel the skies were painted in orange and red hues, but the more they drive the more the bright colors dissolve into darkness. Jonas rolls down the window to look up at the clouds mingled with purple and navy. The wind feels nice against his hair and he feels…. Good.

He glances over to see Mitch staring for a split second before looking away.

“We’re almost there,” he mumbles.

“I would be more excited if you told me where ‘there’ was.” Jonas says but with no real bark behind his words. He’s fine if all Mitch had planned was to drive around into the night.

There’s a few more turns and twists made that make little to no sense. It isn’t until a few moments later where they’re driving up to an open but occupied field of twenty or so other cars parked in the area.

A large rectangular billboard sits smack dab in the center, calling to all of the attention. Segments of cartoony commercials are being projected on the big screen and it is then that Jonas finally realizes where they are and his eyes grow as wide as saucers.

“Is this- Mitch! Mitch, is this a drive-in?! An honest to goodness drive-in?!” He all but shouts, leaning over to clutch the coat sleeve of Mitch’s arm.

“Jesus, keep it in your pants now, Joey.” Mitch jokes but his face is all grins and pride. “I saw it on a flier and thought… Y’know.”

“Oh my god!” Jonas shouts, practically vibrating in his seat as he stares up at the gigantic projection, “I’ve always wanted to go to one, ever since I was little but- we never- I never knew where to go to one! Mitch, you big-” he makes some kind of exasperated noise that he would usually be embarrassed about but right now he doesn’t care.

This man took him to a bloody drive-in!

“If going to one of these was gonna make you so happy I would have taken you to one ages ago.” Mitch says somewhat sarcastically, but there’s a nervous edge to it that has Jonas smiling.

“Thank you.”

“What?”

“Thank you for this, it’s… The nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Um I- it was nothing,” Mitch shrugs, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck anxiously.

The air is tense for a second, the both of them having words to say but as soon as they get the courage to say them the projection changes into the opening title card of the movie they’re seeing tonight.

“Oh shit! Wait, I have the portable radio I’ll hook it up.”

Jonas sighs, watching him set it up. He’s not sure if he’s relieved or miffed at the interruption. Logically, he’s relieved. Emotionally, he’s not too sure.

He stays quiet, smiling at Mitch once he’s got everything hooked up and sound starts flowing through their speakers. All he has to do now is look forward to the movie and do his best not to look left.

He gets lost in the beautiful orchestra that flows throughout the beginning sequence that carries the audience to the wonderfully crafted setting and the memorable faces of its characters. Jonas is hooked instantly and he’s plunged into the plot. He wonders vaguely if Mitch feels as submersed as he does.

The story revolves around a woman, frail and pretty but full of courageous ideas that challenge society's expectations. She captures her viewers, going up against the big dogs and using her beauty to her advantage.

Her life is suddenly entangled with a very shady looking man. He’s pompous and rude, not mean but not good, and he’s caught in a very dangerous business. Despite his hard exterior, he’s soft, and he would sacrifice his own happiness if it meant for the woman to be safe and happy. He’s kind in that sense and it has Jonas clutching onto his seat.

Mitch clears his throat besides him and Jonas looks at him questionly.

“I didn’t know it was uhh, about this, if you wanted to know.”

Jonas squints at him, not sure what he’s talking about, “What do you mean?”

“Um, the- you know what, nevermind. Forget I said anything, let’s focus on the movie, I like the movie,” Mitch babbles awkwardly. Jonas gives him a weird look before shaking it off and returning his focus to the film.

A new character is introduced, typically handsome and heroic. He’s friendly, everyone fawns over him, and he’s got eyes set on the main protagonist. The woman is caught in between having strong feelings for a man who is flawed all over and having the attention of a man who would be perfect for her.

Towards the middle, she chooses perfection and lets herself be kissed by the so-called “hero.”

“That’s not fair,” Jonas mumbles, shaking his head furiously, “Can you believe this? She’s clearly out of her mind.”

“I know, I know,” Mitch starts but Jonas just crosses his arms and huffs.

“She’s out of her mind!” Though frustrated he keeps his eyes fixated on the film and he’s on the edge of his seat. He doesn’t notice another pair of eyes that have not once looked at the movie but has kept them on him all night.

“If she stays with him I’m leaving!”

“It’ll be an outrage,” Mitch drones back.

“I want them to get together!”

“I do too.”

Jonas clenches his teeth as the woman fights with her emotions. She’s unsatisfied with the man she chose, he’s never home and every time she tries to have an emotional conversation he pushes her away.

This perfect man turns out to be not so perfect after all, as he only cares about his image and treats her like his arm candy. He loves publicity, he lives for fortune, and now, he has the girl that is nothing more than a prize. The woman realizes this and runs off to find the other man from before for his insight.

There’s intense conversations, fighting, sobbing, and refusal. The woman is the bigger person, breaking off her relationship so she has a shot at being happy with the other man. They reconcile, confess in a blaze of glory and they end it off with the only kiss that matters.

Jonas is winded. His chest feels tight and he has to blink back a few tears and let himself feel the waves of satisfaction. “Finally,” he breathes and looks over to Mitch who looks bemused at his reaction

“Sorry if I got a bit emotional,” he says sheepishly,  “I love these things honestly.”

“Don’t apologize… You get all… Fluffy when you watch movies. It’s nice,” Mitch murmurs so sincerely it takes him aback.

“Oh uh- fluffy? What does that mean?”

“Means what it means. You get fluffy and it’s nice,” Mitch starts the car after that, the low rumble of the engine breaks through the silence and he’s pulling out of the drive-in and heading back on the road.

“That’s… Weird. You’re weird.”

“Looks like we have a lot in common then.”

He breathes out a laugh, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Listen, you just look… Cute when you watch movies.” It’s said with a lot of mustered up confidence but it only leaves Jonas more confused than ever.

“So… Are you saying that you also look cute while watching movies?” He asks and Mitch snorts, shaking his head and looking at Jonas like he has three heads. “What? What are you looking at?”

“I’m looking at a knucklehead that’s what I’m doing.”

He punches him in the arm, “Watch it you nerd.”

“Oh I’m the nerd now?”

Mitch hits him back and it’s an all out war at that point of lightly hitting and smacking each other, elbowings jabbing into the dashboard and climbing on top of the seats. Mitch has both of Jonas’s hands in his and they’re pushing against one another, laughing and much too close for comfort. It’s unsafe, and dangerous, but he could hardly care as he presses his forehead against Mitch’s.

There’s a moment where the only sound is their breaths trying to catch up, and Jonas can feel it hot and heavy against his face.

He’s curious.

Is he going to be the one to do it or is Mitch going to? They haven’t said anything and somehow they’ve managed to intertwine their fingers in the middle of this mess. His heart feels like it might burst until.

The deathly loud sound of obnoxious car honking has him tearing his hands away and falling back into his seat.

They both look back to see they’ve been holding up traffic, an embarrassingly long line of angry car goers are cursing them out and flashing their lights. Jonas watches Mitch look lost, angry, and disappointed but he doesn’t move from his spot.

“Mitch, eyes on the road.” He finally says and it snaps the other out of it.

“Right.”

They don’t say anything the entire trip back.

 

* * *

 

 

They walk side by side all the way up to their hotel room.

“I hope you… Liked tonight.” Mitch says for the first time ever since they left the magical space of the drive-in.

“I did!” He says it too quickly, like he’s trying to grasp onto this conversation as much as he can, “I mean uh- yes. I did, a lot… Thank you, again.”

“You don’t gotta thank me, Joey. I like doing things like these for you.” It’s the sincerity that kills him. Jonas doesn’t know what to do with it but accept that it’s there even when he doesn’t want it to be.

He inhales, “I… I wish I could do something for you too.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Yeah but… I want to.” He puts on a weary smile, “One of these days I’m gonna be the one to surprise you and take you on some getaway.”

Mitch chuckles, nudging him with his side, “I’ll be looking forward to it. You better make it the time of my life or I’ll be upset.”

“I wouldn’t want to get you upset.”

They joke back and forth until they reach their room, falling into their own separate beds. Jonas groans once his back hits the plush comforter, “God, I’m so tired. I’m laying here forever Mitch, don’t try and stop me.”

“I don’t think you’ll even let me stop you,” Mitch snarks as he cracks his neck and his back. Jonas makes a disgusted noise which makes Mitch crane his entire body so there’s more pops and cracks. Jonas throws a pillow at him from across the room but his aim only get’s it to touch the floor a foot away from Mitch.

“Well, I gotta head off for the night,” Mitch groans, getting up once more.

“Wait, what? We just got home- I mean- We just came back to our room. Why are you going out again?” He feels the heat on his face from his own mistake. He really hopes that’s the only time he’s ever said that.

“Yeah, it’s a drug deal part two going down. This kinda shit happens at night, less people to bother us and it’s more safe, y’know? Can’t let anyone fuck it all up.” He announces it like it’s the rules he lives by, which they are.

Jonas knows this but he still bites his lower lip because… He was hoping to stay up and talk the night away until she fell asleep. “I uh… I get it.” He doesn’t want to ask Mitch to stay, that is absolutely out of the question. When has he ever been so needy to even want to ask such a thing?

“I’ll be back by tomorrow morning, but I’m not gonna stay for too long.”

He pushes the disappointment down to his stomach and forces on a smile, “Okay, I’ll uh… See you later then?”

“Yeah, uh, see you later.”

It’s awkward.

Painfully so.

Jonas burrows himself into the covers and he hears Mitch gather himself up before leaving through the door.

It’s disappointing.

A part of him wishes he could have just asked Mitch to stay.

He rolls over and hears the crinkle of a plastic bag. He pokes his head up from the covers to see the bag that carries the blueberry pie he’s forgotten about. His eyes light up in recognition and before he knows it he’s grabbing it and hurrying out the door.

“Mitch!” He calls out and he sees Mitch about to turn the corner of the hallway. He rushes back quickly, checking Jonas over to see if there’s any sign of danger “What? What happened? Are you okay?”

“Nothing happened I just wanted to uh...… Here!” He pushes the bag into Mitch’s hands, “I got some blueberry pie earlier but I wasn’t gonna eat it and didn’t know if you ate today so you can… Have that. You can eat it in your car or something um… Anyways, have a good night and don’t crash into any pedestrians!”

He laughs forcefully, trying not to look Mitch in the eye as he shuts the door in his face.

After jumping back into bed he covers his burning face in his hands and groans for thirty seconds at his own stupidity. Sleep finds him quickly and he’s just glad that this day is over.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When he awakes his chest makes it a point to throb painfully.

It’s another reminder that he’s being careless and throwing himself around like a bag of used goods. He has no idea what all the helpless grinning and the shy touching exchanges meant last night. Like a mindless fool he continued to toss around jokes with a criminal and touching him freely, as if he’s a friend.

Or more than a friend.

Jonas doesn’t understand what it was in Mitch that provoked this almost unheard side of him. A side that was free of burden, snarky and teasing, like they were playful children shooting the breeze.

He chastises himself. Goes over to the bathroom mirror to tell himself to get his act together and get it through his head that this is not a vacation. He is not here to make friends, he is a man on a mission to take down Narcotics once and for all.

But he knows that’s not true. Jonas would have never thrown himself into this position if it weren’t for Sidney. And there is no evidence to show that they actually did it. And the more Mitch smiles at him and plays along with the game he’s created the more the goal seems out of reach and Jonas ceases to think.

He’s screwed.

Every bit of training and survival instinct in mind completely crumbled to dust when Mitch was thrown into the mix. For God’s sake, he grabbed and pressed himself against him like it was nothing, he gave the man an entire pie because he was _thinking_ of him. Instead of keeping it casual he’s managed to put himself knee deep in Mitch’s business. He should have been more careful, he should have known that Mitch would have this charm that would lure you in unexpectedly.

He just wasn’t counting on being lured in the first place. What’s worse is sometimes, in the middle of fleeting shy glances Jonas could see it too. He could see how Mitch looks at him like he has no idea what exactly he’s looking at.

It scares the living hell out of him knowing that these confusing feelings aren’t one-sided.

He fills the sink up with cold water before dunking his head in, sputtering ungracefully as he attempt to wake up from this nightmare.

When that doesn’t work he throws himself into hellish paperwork. His hand shakey around his fountain pen as he writes confirmation letters and success rates, it does little to comfort him but momentarily he can succumb to a world of numbers and percentages. It’s what he does best after all.

He doesn’t move from his desk all morning.

His eyes betray him a few times when he looks for the time, counting the hours of loneliness before throwing himself back into equations. He finishes a stack of twenty by the time noon comes around.

There’s a crick in his neck and his back protests loudly when he stretches back against his chair. Jonas thinks of long decimals and probabilities, anything to keep his mind off Mitch and contemplating whether or not he enjoyed the pie or not. Thankfully his own battling thoughts are halted when fast erratic knocking greets him at his door.

Jonas has a brief moment of hesitation before feeling defeat as he swings open the door and, yup, there’s Scratch in all her glory.

“It’s me!!” She announces, pushing her way in like she owned the place. She swings a couple of flashy shopping bags and drops them down on his desk that was still overflowing with paperwork. She lifts a few of these papers and snarls, “What’s this?”

“It’s my work,” he snatches the papers away from her hand before she starts eating it or something crazy along those lines. Jonas has to keep an eye out for this one.

“What are you doing here? I thought you’d be out with Mitch.” Jonas startles when Scratch makes an over exaggerated noise, flopping face down onto Mitch’s bed before before peeking one eye to look at him.

“Mitch, Mitch, Mitch! That’s adorable!! But you’re like a broken record,” she complains, making horrifying creaky and scratchy noises to further her point.

Jonas blinks at her, not knowing how to proceed with her. If Javier were here he’d have some idea how to handle Scratch but he’s on his own this time around. He gapes like a fish for a moment before taking a deep calculated breath, “What are you doing here?”

He yelps when Scratch gets up and hunches over, leaning oppressively over Jonas, “I’m having fun.”

“That um- that doesn’t really answer my question…?”

“Ah I’m just messing with you Jonah!” She boops him on the nose before breaking down into laughter and laying back down with her arms spread. Jonas has no idea why she’s laughing but goes along with it so he doesn’t upset her.

“Did you need something? You brought over a bunch of… Bag things.” He waves a hand over at all the colorful purchases and Scratch sits up fast with a gasp.

She slaps herself in the forehead leaving behind a dark mark, “Of course! The ol’ noggin’ is shit lately, I completely forgot! I’m a distraction, duh, except you didn’t hear that and I’m gonna show off the goods before you ask any more questions!”

“E-excuse me-”

“Look!” Scratch shouts, pouring out the contents from the bags all over the floor. “I got the good shit!”

Jonas was expecting drugs, instead he wrinkles his nose as he picks up round shiny cylinders of assortments of creams and powders. It’s so mundane and out of the blue that he has no idea how to react to it. “Scratch, I have no idea how to react to this.”

“Do I gotta spell it out for ya?!”

“Kinda.”

She rolls her eyes before poking Jonas in the forehead with a huge grin, “We’re having a day in!! Mitch is off being gay so I’m in charge of getting _you_ all dolled up and preeetty.”

“Being g- Wait hold on, backtrack!” Jonas exclaims, trying to wrap his head around her words, “What do you mean _dolled up?_ I’m not some sort of dress up doll, Scratch.”

“Obviously not! Dolls don’t talk Jonah, you’re silly.”

“I’m silly?!”

“Come ooon, Jonah!! Javier’s never wants to do this shit with me and Cliff’s still scared of cooties. And Mitch is…” She coughs, not continuing and instead grabs a tub from the floor, “Look at this shit! Look at it!”

She pushes it against his face and Jonas has to say “I’m looking! I’m looking!” Before he gets a chance to read the label. “One hundred percent authentic… Clay mask? What? I still don’t understand.”

“Facials, you and me. This is happening!” She beams, jittery and maybe a little manic as she clutches onto the tubs and containers of beauty products.

“You... “ Jonas shakes his head, “I never would have expected you’d like this sorta thing. And why do you even want to do this with me? Can’t you do it by yourself?”

It’s a bit rude but Scratch doesn’t take it that way, she just scoffs loudly and holds Jonas’s cheeks in her hands, “It’s always funner with a buddy, buddy!! Let those other assholes be all boring, us shortstacks gotta stay together!”

“Shortstacks,” he squeaks and Scratch nods triumphantly.

“So what do you say, you in or out?!”

Jonas is sure he’s blanked out and is in a parallel universe where nothing makes sense anymore because he glances over at the stacks of paper and back at the beauty products and says “what the hell, I’m in.”

He’s got nothing else to lose and besides, Scratch’s squeals of delight are really nice to hear.

 

* * *

 

 

Scratch had bought more than just facials and face creams.

There were tubes of flower scented lotions and soaps, some weird compacts full of make up, a deck of cards, and three packets of gummy candy that they’ve already started to open and eat. There’s already a system built, Jonas takes all the strawberry flavored gummies while Scratch takes all the lemon ones.

They’re chewing mindlessly on the candy with headbands. Scratch insisted the yellow one would look better on him so here he is sitting cross legged on the floor with a headband pushing back his bangs.

They’ve uncapped the clay mask container and Scratch has been sniffing at it, tilting her head at the directions for a few minutes now.

“So all we have to do is keep it on for twenty minutes?” Jonas asks and Scratch nods, still sniffing away.

“I’ll put it on you first!” Scratch declares, scooping a dollop of the mask in her hand.

“Oh you’re… Putting it on me?” He asks nervously and the girl makes an affirmative sound. “Well… Okay then.”

“This is like how the best friends do it in those movies!” She says excitedly as she spreads the mask mixture over Jonas’s forehead. He flinches at how cold it is but calms quickly as she continues over his temples and down to his jaw. She’s not very gentle but she’s not crazy with it, it’s not half bad.

The thick overwhelming smell of clay invades his nostrils and he scrunches up his nose a bit but Scratch insists that he stays still. “I’m covering up your freckles! This is important!” She hisses, holding his chin so she can coat his cheeks thoroughly.

Scratch is very concentrated on layering the cool substance over his face, she gets some on his eyebrows and pokes his eye by accident but it’s not bad at all.

“I like your freckles,” she says out of the blue.

“Oh um? Thank you?”

“Have you heard that people are getting their freckles fuckin’ lasered off?! It’s crazy! Don’t ever do that, I think Mitch and every one of us would cry!” She shouts, cleaning off her hand on a towel they laid out before they started.

“Ah, don’t worry. My freckles are here to stay,” mostly because he didn’t have the money to get them lasered off and frankly, that sounded terrifying.  
  
“Good! It’s your turn, come on, make me fuckin’ beautiful,” Scratch cackles, handing over the container.

Jonas laughs a bit, he’s pretty sure he looks ridiculous but he doesn’t care anymore. He dips his fingers into the clay before lifting his hand to Scratch’s face. Her grinning face throws him off a bit but after a moment's hesitation he starts smearing it over her cheek.

“Shit! That’s cold!” Scratch says but follows it up with a laugh. Jonas suspects that means it’s okay and continues to cover her face with the mask. He’s extra careful to avoid her eyes and halfway he feels his heart pang when he catches her happy expression.

Scratch pulled him into this and he had complied with little resistance because…

Because he’s done this before.

Sidney never cared much for dressing up but what she did care about was keeping a regular skin routine. Usually she’d just do it every night, using face masks and fancy moisturizers. More than often she’d pop out at him in a green mask to scare Jonas silly.

Then there were those rare days where Sidney wanted Jonas to join her. They would stand in front of the bathroom mirror together, putting their face masks on and Sidney would laugh for hours at how stupid he looked. She scolded him too every time he ate the cucumbers from his eyes or how he’d itch at the mask.

Jonas swallows thickly, finishing up Scratch’s mask as he pushed back tears.

“There,” he chokes, “All done.”

The next twenty minutes are spent trying to throw gummies into each other’s mouths and dragging down the comforters to make a semi-fortress on the floor. Scratch flips through some of the channels on the shitty hotel TV and they end up playing a Charlie Chaplin film they gladly play in the background.

They start talking about gang related things, the conversation never flowing and Jonas learns to appreciate Scratch’s serendipitous nature.  
  
“I’m telling you!! Mitch can make crafty shit!” Scratch states after the two of them were having a talk about Mitch coming up with weird food inventions that somehow worked.

“He can be very clever without knowing it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he invented something genius by accident,” Jonas giggles and Scratch snorts in agreement.

“He’s trying to see if you can put a bunch of those fucking…. Corn kernal things in a bag and heat it up over a fire. Wants to make popcorn in a bag!! He once tried and it blew up everywhere!” Scratch laughs hysterically at the memory and Jonas finds this new information amazing. He’s definitely keeping that in the blackmail department.

“What a guy,” he murmurs longingly by accident.

Scratch gives him a side eye, her face turning smug. “... Boss, he sure sees something different in you?”

“Huh?”

She leans closer, tilting her head, “Where exactly did ya come from?”

He feels a bead of cold sweat run down his neck as he tries to laugh and not look Scratch straight in her wide, questioning eye, “What do you mean? I’m just some runt he picked up at the speakeasy, you were there.”

She keeps staring, opening her mouth to say something but ends up closing it. After an eerie silence she breaks out into an easy grin, “You’re neato!” She screams and it scares the daylights out of Jonas.

She smiles, small and easy as he tries to regain balance. “Be good to him.” She looks down, tapping her fingers against the floor before she stands up, “Twenty minutes is up! We gotta wash this gunk off!!” She flings herself to the bathroom and Jonas follows suit, sighing in relief that she didn’t further her questions.

They wash off the hardened clay, it takes Jonas a few rinses before he gets it all off. He laughs when Scratch starts screeching because she managed to get some of the mask in her hair despite wearing a headband.

A painful memory resurfaces as he steadies Scratch’s head. Sidney’s wild messy hair would always be the victim of getting face mask goop tangled in her locks, and she would always make Jonas wash it off for her. It’s all he could think of as he takes the clumps of clay out and rinses off Scratch’s hair.

They both return to the floor, looking through face creams to try on. He picks a rose scented one playing it safe while Scratch starts mixing lotions to slap on her face.

It’s silly, it’s weird, and they still have a packet of gummies left.

“I hope you’re not expecting me to wear make up,” Jonas says, recalling another time where Sidney sat him down so she could use all her sticky lipsticks and eyeshadows on him. He looked like a disaster.

“Pfft, no! Boss would have my head if I ruined your face” she states the obvious while smacking on some dark eyeshadow over her eyelids. “He wants you pretty!”

“Haha, yeah right,” he shakes his head, taking off the yellow headband “Anyways, then I’m done here right? No more crazy beauty products or putting powders on my face?”

Scratch watches as his bangs are freed, coming down hazardously and covering his eyes “Your hair! Your hair is getting long!!” She points out and Jonas self consciously tucks a few locks behind his ears.

She looks around the pile of stuff, scrambling for hair ties and going behind Jonas on her knees, “I’ll take care of it! Promise!”

Jonas watches her eagerly snap the hair tie against her wrist and he doesn’t have the heart to say no to her. “Um… You’re not gonna give me pigtails are you?”

“Nope! Just putting it up! I’m a professional at doing this so don’t you worry your pretty little head!”

Right.

“Well… Go on ahead then.”

Scratch’s hands are in his hair immediately, dragging down his longer locks and gathering as much as she could in a bunch. He’s taken aback by her ministrations and tries to get rid of the image of Sidney stroking his hair in the morning whenever it was too messy for him to handle.

Scratch pulls his hair back, tying a good chunk of it into a ponytail. It’s small, and his bangs still flop in his face but it’s a large improvement over the previous mess. When she pulls her hands away he almost cries at the loss. He wants to keep pretending that Sidney is there, playing with his hair in the early morning or when she would comb out the knots before he went to bed.

“All done!! Now you don’t look all crazy!” The fact that Scratch is the one saying it makes Jonas huff out a small laugh.

He thanks her and means every word.

They finish the gummies, and all of the silent film. Scratch has successfully painted her eyes to look smokey and terrifying, it suits her rather nicely. He doesn’t even recall it getting dark outside until Scratch points it out, a knowing grin on her face.

“We gotta go soon,” she hums, getting up and looking around for her bowtie that she took off a while ago.

“Go? Go where?” he asks, watching her rummage through the bed sheets until she finds it underneath the bed.

“It’s a secret, I heard you really like those!!”

He begs to differ. Most of his life right now is completely fabricated of secrets and lies that will most likely get him killed. He doesn’t say any of that and just shrugs, “I mean, it depends on the secret.”

She cackles, “Mitch has something planned extra nice for you! It’s gonna be great so come on get ready!” That takes him by complete surprise and it’s only now does he remember that he hasn’t seen Mitch all day and he’s been subconsciously missing him. But wait- a surprise? Another one of his impromptu dates?

“Jesus, what does he have planned this time? He better not have thrown around his money again,”  he says outloud to himself and Scratch just shoos him off, telling him to get ready faster to which he willingly complies.

“Mitch is a piece of work,” he says and Scratch nods along, not really paying attention to his frustrations. “Seriously, can you at least tell me if he’s done something crazy? I want to be prepared for this so I can chew him out later.”

“Uhh is going out onto the roof crazy?”

“We’re going out on the roof?”

“Yeah!! It’s where he’s got his surprise!”

“Perfect,” he sighs but with no real disgruntlement. Only exasperated, and a little touched, but mostly concerned over the weight of Mitch’s wallet. Their economy isn’t looking too hot nowadays so he’d appreciate to not be the reason why Mitch goes out of business.

“Ready?” Scratch asks after he stops mumbling a rant under his breath. She’s standing near the door, jittery and hands crossed across her chest. She looks and acts nothing like Sidney but Jonas has to stop himself from saying “yes, Sidney.”

He says “ready” instead.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m just saying if you _knew_ you were gonna get pushed off a roof-”

“But what does knowing make it easier than not knowing?”

“Because you know it’s going to happen!!”

“Is this all leading up to Mitch pushing me off a roof, are you trying to give me hints that he’s out to kill me?” Jonas deadpans, walking up the silent and creaking stairway next to Scratch. Their arms are linked together which makes it a bit challenging to go up together but according to Scratch “if you fall backwards I’ll just drag you forward!” Which spurred on this whole “death by falling” conversation.

“Oh right,” Scratch’s says sarcastically, “Like boss would ever do anything to hurt his poor secretary.”

“I resent that term seeing as I’m not his secretary.”

She whistles, “I see why he likes you so much!” She laughs when Jonas looks away but before either of them can say anymore they’ve reached the top of the stairs where a heavy metal door blocks them from the roof.

“Here it is! Best watch your back just in case Mitch does try anything tricky!!”

“What really? I was just joking about- oof!” Jonas grunts when Scratch slams him into the door, the weight of his body pushing him through and has him stumbling out in the roof. The door slams loudly behind him and he struggles to find his composure.

Once he finds it and after his eyes adjust to the new and sudden lighting his breath completely falters at the sight of twinkling little fairy lights that cover the rooftop. They shine pleasantly, and in the middle of the night they appear like quaint stars sitting on the ledge.

The moonlight that paints a pretty picture and he feels his throat close up at the sight of a single table adorned with tablecloths, and two chairs on either side of it. But most importantly is Mitch, leaning against his seat and looking so out of place and awkward in such a sweet setting that it’s adorable.

Jonas is undeniable charmed by his ridiculous efforts of decorating the roof to make it look like something out of a low budget film.

He searches for words to say, he doesn’t know whether to be clever or genuine. He may have tried to say “you fool” and “you brilliant man” at the same time and it all comes out in a garbled murmured mess.

“Come again?” Mitch says, pulling at the collar of his shirt out of habit. It’s endearing, alluring, and it has his fingers itching to reach up to undo the collar himself. Jonas clears his throat, having to blink the sudden fantasy away to form anything, any sort of words, and he finds himself saying the safest and dumbest thing that comes to mind:

“I’m severely underdressed.”

He starts laughing after he’s finished saying it, stifling and covering his mouth so he doesn’t embarrass himself further with his snorts and gross giggling. He’s so flustered, not knowing how to respond with so much affection rising up in his chest and it’s left him acting foolish. Thankfully, the same seems to be happening to Mitch because he also breaks down in a fit of unrestrained laughter.

“Well don’t worry, I didn’t get you any flowers so we’re even but uh…” Mitch trains his gaze towards a tray of flowers. Now here’s the thing, in a hotel that’s more or less abandoned, and when there are visitors, it’s always criminals who are unlikely to have an interest in gardening.

So Jonas can’t help but absolutely lose it when Mitch grabs a fistful of dead flowers and rips them straight out of the tray. The roots and everything hanging off them.

“Here,” Mitch earnestly hands out and Jonas walks over, shoulders shaking with amusement as he takes them.

“Professional as ever.” He wheezes and just like that everything falls into place. There’s an oh so convenient empty vase already placed on the table that they put the dead flowers in. Jonas vaguely wonders if Mitch has planned the whole flower stunt and doesn’t know whether to roll his eyes or feel utterly enchanted.

Once settled Mitch gives him an adoring stare, so unrestricted and true that it takes Jonas a moment to register he’s talking, “and I know it’s not really much but-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Jonas cuts him off, “This is everything right now.”

It’s cheesy and unlike him. But he’s feeling brave. Maybe it’s because Mitch managed to completely pull him out of his element and granted him the pleasure of what is possibly the most romantic and silliest moment in his life. He can no longer keep his swooning at bay and his heart has taken control.

“If all it took was a blueberry pie to get you to do this…”

“You act like the pie is the reason why I’m doing all this.”

“Is it not? I was convinced that I managed to sway you with my secret weapon,” Jonas retorts, grinning as Mitch poured him a glass of wine from off the table.

“Pie is your secret weapon?” He questions, filling up his own glass.

“Uh-uh, you answer my question first.”

“Hm… So maybe the pie had a factor,” he lifts his glass and Jonas does the same. They clink them together and it’s an action so small but intimate that it has Jonas burning from the inside out.

“I knew it. No one could ever resist.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“You’re awfully truthful.”

“I’m a shit liar,” their voices have gone down. On this roof there’s no one else to disturb, they can talk all they want, but talking quietly is more personal and leaves behind goosebumps all over his arms and neck.

“Really? I would think you’d be a better one,” Jonas takes a sip of his bitter wine that satisfies the dryness in his mouth.

“Yeah but this is you we’re talking about. I can’t to you or else I get all stupid.”

The hot fire that sits in his stomach burns with guilt.

For the first time since he’s entered the roof he looks away from Mitch’s honest gaze. Before his head gets into a dark and lonely place his eyes are pulled towards the view they occupy. He has been so focussed on the fairy lights that he hasn’t noticed how high up they actually were and seeing the city in such a perspective makes him breathless all over again.

“Wow,” he breathes and he feels Mitch’s question before he asks it, “It’s just that… You sure do know how to pick a view. It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Jonas looks back to see if Mitch is also staring out into the endless sea of city lights and buildings that surround them. But he is only greeted with Mitch still completely fixated on him and he has to put his glass down quickly before he spills it all over himself.

They look down, on edge and conscious of every stare and look they exchange. Jonas feels bare and exposed to a new heightened world that he has no idea how to react.

Mitch doesn’t either, he coughs and leans back in his chair, “I’m so shit at this but I wanted to take a crack at it.”

Without moving his gaze from his lap Jonas hums, “You’re doing so much for me.”

“I want to. You deserve it.”

“I really… I really don’t.”

“Come on, I gave you dead flowers and everything.” That cracks a laugh out of Jonas and Mitch takes it as a victory. “I also wrangled up some shitheads to cook for us tonight. They should be done soon or something.”

Jonas sighs, happy and in disbelief, “You are full of surprises Mitch Mueller.”

“So I’ve been told.”

They clink glasses again and drink from them for a second time.

 

* * *

 

 

They talk.

Jonas doesn’t know what they discuss, all he knows is that he can’t stop laughing or exchanging words that mean everything and absolutely nothing.

Even when their food arrives and they stop to take bites in between they just can’t stop talking.

Being with Mitch is like being limitless. There’s no distinction of where Jonas begins and where Mitch ends. They mesh together unconventionally but that’s what lead to the wildest of conversations, their differences coming together to spark a thousand new arrange of colors and adventures.

Jonas knows this can’t be healthy for his heart because not once has it stopped beating irregularly. It’s done it all, from skipping to speeding up and to stopping all together whenever Mitch is brave enough to brush their knuckles together from across the table. His ears burn as do his nerves that are so alight in Mitch’s presence. Jonas takes a jab at Mitch and his bold gestures of romance to which he receives a valiant grin and an explanation.

“A bunch of those mushy gushy films can teach a guy a thing or two.” He says it so simply but there’s so much meaning that carries with it.

“Yeah, well it’s working.”

“Is it?”

Jonas hums while tipping back his head to drink the rest of his wine.

Their empty plates are carried away by an unknown servant, and the moon still hovers over them with a watchful eye. They grow quiet but it is not eerie, Jonas enjoys sitting comfortably and poking at the dead flowers and its crackly petals.

“You’re killing me, Spots.” Mitch says suddenly. His body leans back heavily against his chair, more loose than he was previously, it must be the wine’s doing.

“What do you mean?” Jonas asks.

“Man, I don’t even fuckin’ know,” he laughs without mirth, a hand coming up to his forehead rubbing at it slowly. It looks like he’s witnessing a revelation and he’s trying to take it all in. “I have no idea… But fuck…”

“You okay t-”

“You’re all I need.”

Jonas clamps his mouth shut, affronted by the statement.

“What?”

Mitch keeps quiet before shaking his head, running his hand through his hair before sitting back up in focus, “Nothing. The night’s still young! We can go out for a walk or some shit, you in or you out?”

“A walk?”

“Yeah a walk, you know like walking down a street, preferably not alone in the middle of the night?” You’ve walked before, am I right?”

Jonas clicks his tongue and kicks Mitch from underneath the table, “Stop being so silver tongued, it’s not a good look.”

Mitch kicks him up before standing, “Lucky for you I don’t know what silver tongue means, but hey, not only you can be a little smartass. Now come on! We’re burning daylight!”

“It’s evening.”

“Not the point, let's go!” He grabs his coat that was hanging off his chair and makes his way to the door.

“Any reason why for the sudden need to walk?” Jonas questions, walking through the large metal door with him and going merrily down the many flights of stairs. They don’t bump into anyone else which is a relief.

“Well, I haven’t done shit but drug busts for the past few days. And didn’t you want to explore the city or whatever? What do they say? Get your dick wet or something.” Mitch thinks aloud and Jonas sputters, bumping into him.

“Excuse me?! Do you... “ he squints, “Do you mean get your feet wet?”

“Eh, same thing.”

“I’d beg to differ!”

They exit through the hotel doors and embrace the chilly night graciously. Well, Mitch at least had thought to bring a coat with him while Jonas remains in a plain dress shirt, he shivers as they walk unceremoniously down the street but tries not to make it a big deal. He should know by now that Mitch isn’t going to let it slide.

After a block Mitch puts his arm around him, tugging him closer. “Don’t be a stranger, nerd.”

Jonas has nothing witty to respond with. He only tenses but moves along slowly with him, the new warmth is comforting but he refuses to meet Mitch’s stare in fear of doing something he may regret.

They’ve been dancing around each other all night.

Jonas may be naive but he’s no stranger to what sweet talking looks like. They’ve been flirting consistently, every word dripping with some sort of double meaning and he knows it’s gone too far. He doesn’t know when they’ve crossed the line, maybe there was never a line to begin with.

He’s distressed and smitten, he’s not paying attention to the shops or sounds, he can only feel Mitch pressed up to his side and his hand resting a few inches away from his shoulder. He wants to stay like this for a long time, perhaps they may never return to the hotel and continue to walk aimlessly until one of them speaks up and makes a move. Oh god, Jonas thinks, he wants Mitch to make a move.

His eyes grow misty and his hands clench. He’s helpless.

Footsteps grow steadily behind them but they’re lost in the moment. Not daring to say anything and Jonas knows that Mitch knows that his heart is racing like mad. So it’s unsurprising when a body slams into them knocking the absolute wind out of them.

They’re pushed hard into the small entryway of an alley, and Jonas trips over his own two feet and his head hits against the side of a building so hard that he’s seeing stars.

Mitch may have it worse because his ungraceful limbs have him tumbling backwards and has him thudding onto the floor.

“Jesus- what the fuck!” Mitch wheezes and there’s a body on him, a man dressed from head to toe in black as he knees at Mitch’s stomach and makes a grab at his throat. “What the fuck!!” He chokes and tries to free his hands, scraping them alongside the asphalt.

“Eighty dollars for a fucking pair of ice skates and a cheap date? The fuck kind of money are you packing, son.” The man spits, gripping Mitch’s throat harder. Jonas tries to shake some sense into himself, and he swallows hard at the sight of the man from the ice rink they visited, a bitter middle aged man with nothing to lose.

Mitch finally lifts a hand, grabbing the back of the man's head and slamming it against his own, headbutting him so hard that the man suffers a nosebleed, scrambling back and shouting in dismay.

Mitch himself doesn’t go unharmed as he rubs the center of his forehead but he puts on a brave face anyways, “You have one warning to get the fuck outta here!”

The man stumbles onto his feet, and looks ready to back down before he makes a quick grab for the pocket knife he was hiding and makes a swipe at Mitch. He expertly dodges it but he wasn’t expecting the punch that rams hard into his stomach. He’s winded and it gives the man enough time to look over at Jonas, who is cowering and gasping like a fish out of water while he watches this happen.

“How about you? Are you the one keepin’ his money?” He grabs a fistful of Jonas’s hair and he yelps in pain as he’s forcefully dragged to his feet and pinned against the harsh jagged wall.

The end of the blade is held against his neck, pressing and biting but never sinking, “What are you some kinda whore?” Jonas bites back a sob as the man presses harder, his breath so close he could feel it hot on his cheek, “Not a very pretty one but you could be _plenty_ fun-”

He’s yanked backwards so quickly and with so much force that it startles Jonas.

Then all that fills his vision is Mitch crashing his fist into the guy’s temple, a sickening crunch is heard as he drops like a sack of potatoes on the floor.

“Never,” Mitch starts, his voice animalistic and has Jonas’s blood run cold. He kicks the man’s side, a heart wrenching crack, “Ever,” he kicks again and the distinct sound of a rib crunching and painful cries is horrific. “Fucking touch him..”

Jonas feels his knees go weak as the man goes out cold from the pain but Mitch is relentless. He growls, the frustration teeming from his body and he punches the man in the face twice, once in the mouth and the other on his nose that’s gushing blood like a water fountain. His knuckles are red and bloodied but his eyes are wild with insanity and determination.

“Mitch,” he says softly while Mitch continues obliterating his own hand against the man’s, now unidentifiable face.

He’s sick and brutal, driving his fist harder and harder into the bloodied pulp and Jonas feels himself shake, knowing that if Mitch keeps going the man is as good as dead. “Mitch.” He chokes out louder, getting himself up on shaky legs.

“Mitch stop! Stop!” He pushes himself off the wall and grabs Mitch by his waist, pulling him backwards but Mitch resists against him, his arm still swinging at the unconscious body. “You’re going to kill him, please stop!”

“Let me,” Mitch snarls but Jonas squeezes his arms harder, pulling back with all his strength even though it’s a minimal effort. Mitch has started slowing down though, and his breathing goes less erratic as Jonas refuses to unlatch his arms around his waist.

“It’s not worth it, Mitch. Please,” he cries against his back and his broken voice is what snaps Mitch out of it.

He’s still seething, breathing so hard that his chest heaves, but the swinging stops and his mangled up hand goes limp at his side.

Mitch moves away and Jonas finally lets go, he watches as his boss looks down at the beat up man, fury but resignation in his eyes. And then he’s leaving the alley without a word. “Mitch!” Jonas calls out for him, running to his side but Mitch refuses to look at him, eyes hard as he walks forward and in the direction of the hotel.

“Mitch,” Jonas starts and he doesn’t care how desperate he sounds, “Mitch please, please look at me. We have to get your wounds checked- we- we have to talk. Please talk to me.”

Nothing.

Jonas grabs Mitch by the arm which successfully stops him, “Mitchell fucking Mueller please talk to me-”

“Did you see him looking at you. Did you see it in his eyes.” Mitch says and it’s dripping in venom. He’s so angry but Jonas knows it’s not with him. He doesn’t say anything but give him sad eyes and lets him continue, “Did you see it?! The way  he fucking looked at you I- God, I wanted to cut his fucking eyes out and fucking kill him!” He screams and Jonas winces.

“Mitch, please, someone is going to hear-”

“I don’t fucking care Jonah!” Mitch shouts, laughing maniacally, “He thinks- he fucking thinks he can lay a hand on you and get away with it?! I would have killed him- I would have killed anyone that would ever-” he stops. He stops speaking, he stops breathing, and he just stares at Jonas with a burst of energy in his eyes.

He lunges forward and Jonas is pinned up against a wall again.

There is no blade keeping him hostage or any danger, there’s just him and Mitch crushing his lips against his in a bruising kiss. He has no time to gasp or be in shock, he’s completely frozen in place as Mitch kisses the life out of it. It hurts and it’s raw with all of Mitch’s open emotions and it’s not what he wants at all.

“Mitch,” he tries to say but he can hardly speak. Jonas presses his hands against Mitch’s chest, “Stop, please.”

And he does instantly. He let’s him go as if Jonas had burned him and Mitch looks down at his hands and there’s so much regret. “I’m sorry,” he says and it sounds so small and broken, “He just- he fucked it up, he fucked up my plans and I was gonna kill him. I was gonna kill him right in front of you after everything- after tonight-”

“Mitch it’s-”

“He ruined it.”

Jonas wraps his arms around him, burying his face into his shoulder and Mitch breaks, clutching onto him like he’s his lifeline. They stand there like complete idiots, embracing like it’s the end of the world and all they have left is each other.

“Let’s go home,” Jonas whispers and he feels Mitch nod but they don’t move until they’re ready.

 

* * *

 

 

Jonas takes Mitch back to the hotel, leading him by holding his okay hand.

He takes him to the bathroom and wordlessly he helps Mitch wash off the blood and dirt from his banged up hand. They don’t say a word as Jonas cleans it, disinfects it, and wraps it up in bandages he found in a first aid kit hidden behind the cabinet.

Once he’s done Mitch moves away, separating himself from Jonas and goes to his side of the room.

The silence is deafening and it makes the inside of his mouth sour. The night had started out so nicely and now everything has gone down the drain. Mitch sits at his bed, head in his hands and his leg shaking violently. Jonas hates this, and he doesn’t feel comfortable looking at his own bed, as if he’s expected to lie on it alone and sleep this day away like it never happened.

He takes a deep breath.

“Do you wanna be on this side of the room?”

The shaking stops.

Mitch looks up, eyes tired and frown prevalent, “Like… Switch beds?”

Jonas takes deep breath. Mitch is always the courageous one so it’s about time he switches things up or else they’ll never get anywhere. “No… I mean like… A one for two deal.”

“One for two…” Mitch repeats, blinking slowly, “That… Sounds like a shitty deal. You’re paying for one thing for two?”

_This man._

Must he really spell it out for him. Jonas cringes and takes another long deep breath, “I mean, y’know… One for two…” He gestures to himself and Mitch, and then to his bed. He does this gesture a few times before the light bulb finally goes off in Mitch’s head.

“Oh!” He shouts, “Oh… Oh yeah, okay, I mean, yeah! I wanna… Take up that deal.”

“Ha, even if it’s a shitty one?” He says, laying down on one side of his bed.

“Have I ever told you how weird you sound cursing?” Mitch asks, changing the subject as he approaches Jonas’s bed. He stands there for a moment, as if he he’s trying to remember the steps of getting into bed before laying next to Jonas, a good foot between them.

“It feels weird when it comes out of my mouth.” He supplies but then they return to being quiet until Jonas makes another leap of faith, “Today was… Nice.”

Mitch scoffs, “Yeah, a mugging sure does sound great.”

“No you- listen, I liked dinner. A lot.”

“.... Really?”

“Yes really. But you also… You protected me today.”

“Jesus Joey, of course I would. I wasn’t going to let that stupid fuck-”

“Are you okay?” The question, he assumes, takes Mitch aback because there’s a pause before he answers.

“What? No yeah, I’m fine. God I was so angry, I couldn’t believe....” He trails off.

“Well… You don’t have to be angry anymore. The problem was solved and we’ve… Moved on from it. Overall, it was still good.” Jonas feels Mitch takes some steady breaths besides him and the tension soons starts to ease out.

“... Was it?”

“Mmhm.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Jonas turns his head so he’s looking at Mitch and his heart surges when they lock eyes together. This is definitely… Something alright.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“... What’s the difference between roast beef and pea soup?”

Jonas smiles. He remembers this joke. It’s the one that Mitch completely butchered when they first went out together for the first time. He plays along, “What?”

“Anyone can roast beef, but not everyone can pea soup.”

It’s an old corny joke that he already knew the punchline to but Jonas can’t help but burst into a fit of laughter. Maybe it’s because it’s Mitch. Hell, he knows it’s because it’s Mitch. “You got it this time. Congratulations.”

“I’ll be here all week.”

 

* * *

 

 

It’s their last day here.

Jonas wakes up feeling cold.

He doesn’t remember when or how he fell asleep but he knew he was warm with Mitch besides him. He’s disappointed he didn’t wake up while he was still next to him but you can’t have everything you want.

He still pouts, feeling especially bratty today. He doesn’t want to go back into the regular routine of being in archives where Mitch probably won’t be able to have time for him. He really enjoyed it while it lasted. Jonas rolls over so he lays on his side, once shielded by the blanket he lets himself touch his lips.

Yesterday Mitch may have been blinded by violence but it was to protect him.

Mitch had a meltdown because someone dared tried to hurt him. In the midst of violence he also kissed him. It was not perfect and Jonas wishes it happened in more conventional means but… He can’t stop thinking about. It keeps replaying in his head and he hates how much he longs for a better one. This time where feelings are concrete and there’s no danger…

He’s pathetic.

Before he had the right mind to deny it but he can’t anymore. There’s no use in hiding it when it’s sitting right in front of you. When Mitch looks at him with the most adoring expressions Jonas feels himself looking back just as lovesick. That’s what he is… Absolutely lovesick.

He’s going to keep these days in his heart forever.

“Why him?” he says out loud but no one is there to answer. There’s a saying… The heart wants what the heart wants and right now, it's wanting and yearning so bad it might explode if it doesn’t get it.

Best start packing now.

He gathers up his bag, throwing in clothes and anything else he thinks is his. He moves like a zombie, lifeless and tired of living. He takes a few naps and wastes the day away with them. He doesn’t want to see anyone, the thought of talking to another human being is revolting and there’s nothing else to do.

Jonas waits around until it’s seven in the afternoon and the last drug bust has finished up. He’ll do the paperwork when they get back to base.

Javier comes in unexpectedly and is a bit startled to see Jonas lounging around, “Oh! Jonah, shit I thought you were somewhere else.”

“I’ve been here all day,” he drones and Javier huffs.

“Well shit, anyways, we’re up and at ‘em! Mitch has come back so we’re all ready to get the fuck out of here. Got everything?” He asks and Jonas answers with an “mhm” before getting up and grabbing his bags.

Javier stops. Gives him a once over, “Are… You okay?”

He’s dazed, feels a little like shit, and he’s coming to terms that he may be in love with Mitch Mueller. But he doesn’t say that, “Yup… I mean, as okay as I can be I guess. No big deal.” He shrugs and Javier keeps looking at him with a calculated stare before sighing.

“Alright then. By the way, someone else is gonna be driving for you and Mitch. One of the rookies he pushes around.” That perks Jonas up a bit and he feels a flash of fear.

“What? Why isn’t Mitch driving? Did something happen? Is he okay?”

Javier raises his hands, “Woah, woah, woah, didn’t mean to freak you out, buddy. Mitch is just tired from today, big job and all that. If I knew you were gonna get all squirrely I would have lead with that.”

“Oh… Okay.”

Javier doesn’t like this shift in demeanor and keeps trying to take Jonas apart, as if he’ll find something if he stares long enough, “... So did you two have a fun time here?”

Confused, he answers with a hesitant, “Uh… Yeah we did.”

“... Did you… Did you know?”

“What?” Does Javier know something he didn’t? “Know what?”

“Did you know that Mitch didn’t even have to come on this trip?” Javier says it slowly, unintentionally condescending but Jonas appreciates it because it gives him a moment to sink in. And then he’s thrown into a loop because what? What does that mean?

He says that last part out loud and Javier nods, “Yeah, man. If Mitch had to go to every single drug bust we did then he’d be all over the fucking place. This was a job just for the dealers, he didn’t have to come but he did.”

That still doesn’t make any sense.

“So why… did he? If he didn’t have to why did he?”

Javier grins, “Why else do you think? He wanted you to come with so he could take you on his dates or whatever.” Jonas gapes at him, not saying anything, “Well, that’s all for now. Come on, we really gotta get going.”

“R… Right.”

Logic is thrown out the window.

He feels tears in his eyes and he threatens to chew a hole through his lip. His heart is going to jump out of his chest and he feels like he’s floating as he walks down the halls and into the lobby because what the hell.

What the absolute hell.

That is the most sweetest…. Most Thoughtful thing he’s ever heard in his entire life. It’s not fair, nothing about this is fair and he just doesn’t care anymore. He wipes his eyes before going through the exit where most of everyone is throwing their shit into cars. He looks around thinking _where is this man? Where is this beautiful selfless piece of garbage?_

Once he sees him Jonas has to take a breath and not throw himself at him right away. He swallows and makes his way to him, trying to stop his fingers from trembling.

Mitch catches sight of him and he does this stupidly adorable grin that Jonas is _freaking crazy_ for, how dare he. “Hey! Get your shit in the trunk, I’m ready to go home.” Jonas follows instructions, moving like a robot as he sets his bags next to Mitch’s.

Mitch opens the car door for him and he almost loses his goddamn mind but keeps it together.

He has to keep it together.

He steps in and his skin is on fire, every nerve is alive and he’s shaking. He looks around the compartment and feels safe knowing there’s separation from the front seats and the back seats. “Play something loud,” Jonas says to the rookie who’s skittish looking and nervous.

“Um what-”

“Play something loud and roll up the partition.” Jonas demands in a clearer voice and the anxious member thankfully complies. The music is loud but not distracting and the added partition is more privacy, good, perfect. Excellent.

Mitch finally gets in next to him and shuts the door. “Jesus, is this guy a recluse or what?”

“Mm,” Jonas shrugs and he swears to god if this car doesn’t start driving right now. It’s almost as if the rookie hears his distressed thoughts and starts the car up, driving out from parking and hitting the road.

“How…” he starts, voice breathier than he thought it would be so he clears his throat, “How tinted are these windows?”

“Uhh does it matter?”

Jonas shifts his body to the right, “Yes. It does, tell me now.”

“They’re tinted dark enough, why does that matter-”

“It matters.” And it’s the last thing he says before he’s on Mitch, grabbing him by the head and kissing him hard on the mouth. He feels fearless and yearning, and it’s driving him into madness and all he could do is swallow Mitch’s surprised noises. It’s like getting a drink of water after being thirsty for so long, or coming home for the very first time.

He tangles his fingers in Mitch’s hair and pulls Mitch against him, god, he needs this, he needs this more than ever.

Mitch’s hands are at his hips, gripping tight and he finally leans back, panting hotly and eyes half-lidded. He wonders if he screwed up, if he read it all wrong and by tomorrow he’d be executed by Mitch’s hands.

It only takes a look that contradicts those statements.

_Love._

Mitch pulls him back in this time, he kisses like an animal and breaks apart to kiss the rest of his face. Jonas has to conceal a high pitched whine when Mitch kisses the tender skin of his neck before grazing his teeth with it, “you are- you’re unbelievable-” he tries, but he can’t stop kissing him long enough to form full sentences.

Jonas rushes in for another kiss, this time dirty as their tongues slide against one another. Mitch holds him close and Jonas is like putty in his arms. They can’t be parted for more than a few seconds, they’re always touching. Even when they take greedy gulps of air Jonas feels Mitch’s fingers digging into his sides and he too can’t stop clinging onto his neck.

It’s ravenous and beautiful all at the same time.

Mitch plays him like an instrument. He takes him apart with his teeth nipping at his bottom lip and the way he devours his mouth like a hungry man. His hands are everywhere, clutching and pulling. He can barely contain the shuddering gasp when Mitch pulls his hair back so Jonas exposes his neck to him, it’s his to mark up now.

Jonas’s back arches when Mitch sinks his teeth into the junction of his neck and collarbone and in that movement they both freeze. He can feel it. He feels every inch of hardness because Jonas is sitting right on it.

 _I do this to him._ Jonas thinks before doing it again, rolling his hips ever so slightly and the growl he receives is everything he could ever want and more.

“I’m yours,” he mumbles against Mitch’s lips. They share a connecting stare and he knows that this truly is requited.

The next kiss is loving. Slow and a bit tentative, it’s the sweetest kiss they’ve ever shared and it’s the one that has Jonas tearing up.

That is until Mitch snaps his hips up and Jonas chokes on his gasp. He takes another shot of being brave as he starts to rock his hips against Mitch’s, grinding hard and not very coordinated but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore.

Mitch continues to eat him alive, gnawing at his neck and leaving behind red bruises. His hands wander under Jonas’s shirt and he grabs and gropes any piece of flesh he can get his hands on. He pushes Jonas backwards against the car so he’s laying over him, he grinds into him like a loose canon.

“You’re like an animal in heat,” Jonas says, voice barely above a whisper. It feels loud in the small space of the car where they have little room to even breathe.

“Do you not like that?” Mitch asks, peppering kisses all over his Jonas.

“Not at all, I expect more of it,” He pulls Mitch into another heated kiss, wrapping his legs around Mitch’s hips like a vice so they could be even closer than before. They both groan in each other’s mouths, grinding harder than before.

“More” one of them breathes out and they’re scrambling to touch each other. Mitch sits back up and drags Jonas back into his lap, the position easier. Safer.

Mitch undoes the front of his pants first and Jonas continues to rut himself against him, moaning quietly into his neck. It’s suffocating in the heat of the car but he doesn’t care, he lives for Mitch having one hand in his hair so he could hold Jonas in place while he slides his tongue in his mouth.

Jonas wanted to feel him come apart beneath him. The second Mitch pulls himself out of his pants his hand shoots forward to wrap around it. They both shudder, Jonas because he’s already addicted to the feeling of Mitch’s cock, heavy and leaking in his hand, and Mitch because Jonas wastes no time stroking him.

Jonas hides his face in Mitch’s neck as he experimentally slides his fingers over the head of his lover’s cock. He squeezes it, tugging at it harder and his heart throbs when he feels it twitch in his hand.

He whimpers when Mitch groans, low and animalistic. Jonas cries out when Mitch palms against his own hardness suddenly and he melts in his arms.  No one has ever done this to him before, and he marvels how different it feels when someone else is taking you apart with their hands.

“Jesus, you’re wet just cause you were rutting against me, huh?” Mitch’s voice is teasing, and prideful. Jonas can’t say anything snarky because he knows it’s true. He strokes Mitch’s cock faster, a part of him is still marvelling at how big it feels in his hand and he wonders if it’ll feel heavy in his mouth.

Mitch’s teeth grind together, and he jerks Jonas harder. He’s relentless, gripping and pulling so hard that Jonas shakes, moaning louder than before. “Please,” he sobs and nearly cries out in protest when all movement stop.

“Wait, I wanna feel you,” Mitch grunts out before pressing themselves together and-

Oh god.

Jonas squeezes his eyes shut when Mitch reaches a hand in between them, stroking the both of them together with vigor. He’s letting out pathetic cries and all he could do is grind harder into Mitch’s cock. He’s so inexperienced with everything but he wants it all, he wants to learn with Mitch.

“You have no idea… how much I wanted this,” Mitch groans, his voice breathy and low. It drives Jonas crazy, he holds onto his jaw lovingly and slots their lips together.

“I want you. I always have.”

Mitch kisses him breathless, and like that he’s coming apart. He cries into Mitch’s mouth and his entire body shakes but Mitch is there to carry him through it. It wasn’t long before Mitch came, watching Jonas fall apart was all it took.

They don’t move.

They kiss, languidly and gentle. The music continues on in the background but they barely hear a single note because they’re too busy exchanging sweet sentences.

“You’re everything I’ve always wanted.”

“You have me.”

“You’ve always had me.”

Jonas is completely and utterly fucked.

 

* * *

 

They don’t stop kissing.

Jonas wonders how there was ever a time when they weren’t kissing.

Tilting his head while Mitch moves his lips against him comes naturally as breathing. His hands always find their way in Mitch’s hair or cupping his neck, and he makes up for lost time by pulling him closer. He’s sure he never wants to let go.

It’s terrifying.

But when Mitch cards his fingers through his hair and tugs it’s as if there is no greater warmth than this. The entire car ride home was nothing but the slow slide of lips together and sighs of relief being breathed against his skin.  
  
No one has ever loved him like that but Mitch’s arms feel like they belong wrapped around his waist. He also really likes the bruises that litter over the plush parts of his thighs.

Being marked up and claimed is… Enchanting.

He presses down on the marks against his neck to remind himself who he belongs to. He’s also left… Quite an impression on Mitch too. He tends to scratch when overcome by pleasure and there’s no explaining the scratch lines on the back of Mitch’s neck… Jonas doesn’t feel any regret and is even cheeky enough to feel smug.

He’s walking on air. Eventually… He’ll have to face the truth and plummet back on earth but for now he has everything in the palm of his hands. He is loved… And that’s all that matters.

Their return back to base went well.

Mitch and Jonas talked.

For a really long time.

Mainly about feelings and what they will make of their relationship. Jonas cried a few times, all of them good tears, and he was coaxed with many open mouthed kisses that made everything better. What they discussed in private is no one else's business but their own, he keeps it locked and safe in his heart.

There was no time to settle down to his dismay.

Jonas knew he had to get away, to return back to his… “Home.”

Only to check to see if his father had written to him and if any news was out on Sidney’s investigation. He’d also like to sit in Sidney’s room for a while, pretend to talk to her and ask her what she thinks of this mess he’s gotten into.

He’s sure she would chew him out to hell and back. But she’d still want him to be happy and right now… Mitch is lifting all his spirits.

After that he’ll return back to the base and continue to abandon his original lifestyle. He doesn’t think to visit the police station because, as much as he hates to admit it, he doesn’t feel drawn to it like he used to. It feels like a lifetime ago where he would wake up and be excited to do police work for eleven hours a day.

So he sneaks away from the base, having to reject Mitch’s offer of sleeping together in his trailer and get rest at his own. He promises to see Mitch in the morning and walks the rest of the way back home.

It’s a long walk. It’s always a long walk and his skin feels scratchy now that he’s away from Mitch. He catches his own reflection on a glass window and has to look away because he hardly recognizes himself. On the outside he is the same as ever but now there’s an edge to his stance, and his rose-tinted glasses have disappeared.

There is so much he now knows and nothing can ever be the same. He keeps walking until he sees his house in between all the others. It’s an indescribable feeling, walking up to your front porch and feeling like an intruder.

And that’s where everything goes wrong.

His front door is unlocked.

His hand freezes over the doorknob and pushes the door open. He’s fearful, ready to see if his house was ransacked while he was away. What he sees is not what he’s expecting.

Dean.

Sitting tall and rigged on his couch. There’s a cup of coffee in his hand that’s shaking, and his jaw is so stiff it looks like it might break. He snaps his head so fast towards Jonas once he’s entered the living room and it scares the daylights out of him. He opens his mouth but doesn’t know what to say.

“D-Dean? What are you-”

“Shut your mouth.”

“W-what.”

“Where have you been?” His voice is shaking, angry and distressed and on the verge of completely falling apart. Jonas is suddenly eight years old again being scolded for something he’s done wrong. He feels cowardly as he approaches him closer, Dean’s eyes are bloodshot and his hands haven’t stopped shaking once.

“Dean? Are you okay? Do you need to see someone?” Jonas feels intimidated by the fury in his eyes, “... I can call the station-”

“I asked you a question and I expect you to answer it!” He grits out, smashing the cup of coffee against his clean floors, Jonas makes a crying noise and jumps to Dean’s attention. “Now answer me.”

“I was- I was out, I took a trip to the city. W-why did something happen?” he’s anxious and flinching every time Dean makes a very sharp movement.

Dean inhales, “You couldn’t even be here. You should have been here. Helping us.”

“I don’t- I don’t underst-”

“Of course you don’t! You never do.” He snaps, stepping onto the shards of glass with his boots. “You never fucking listen.”

“I don’t…”

“She’s fucking dead. She’s dead and you weren’t…” Dean clenches and unclenches his fists, as if he’s ready to swing at Jonas any second. His words catch him off guard, he glances around wondering if he’s not in on some kind of joke.

“What? Like… Like Sidney? I know… I know she died-”

“NOT SIDNEY.” Dean’s booming voice rings out and Jonas cowers immediately, clamping his mouth shut and putting up his arms to cover himself.

“... Not Sidney,” Dean says again, calmer but still treading on waters.

“T-then.. Then w-”

“Sue.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment your theories if you have any!
> 
> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave your comments down here!
> 
> I run the fan blog, Mitjo, on tumblr!
> 
> This was Beta'd by Smokeplanet, Mars, herself! And thank god too or else this would have had a lot more mistakes!!
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> EDIT: If y'all have any fan theories of..... what's going on.... who the killer is...... why did sidney get murdered..... what's wrong with jo..... please do comment... :^)


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